Madonna's Accomplishment | Letters | Chicago Reader

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Madonna's Accomplishment


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To the editors:

In ref to the letters blasting Bill Wyman [August 16] for blasting Madonna's movie [June 21]: Why do Madonna defenders have to make the woman into more than she is or can be? Why not just admit that they like to watch sultry women prancing around in their underpants? Men have enjoyed this for years already. Making Madonna into a creative genius reminds me of the old saw about the guy caught coming out of the Tikitak Lounge trying to explain to his wife that Lola Lotsabottom is really a great artiste.

Madonna is in creative control to the exact extent that the men who control the industry allow her to be. And I'll betcha that if the day ever came when she dons a turtleneck sweater and jeans and ceases to commoditize herself as a sexual fantasy, the Madonna market would dry up quicker than this summer's rains. She'd be left shouting in the ruins like this old homeless woman I saw shaking a hanger at the el tracks.

Madonna has a couple good songs. She's alright. Except that she helped popularize the whining, nasal vamping that dominates female pop vocalizing. But, so what? My biggest beef with Madonna is the pressure that her shtick puts on young girls to be the relentless sexual object of slobbering male desire. The material girl goes even farther by groveling at the polished boots of yuppie fascists, glorifying the subjugation while she defines it. (See video: "Express Yourself.")

And to say that Madonna raises money for AIDS research means as much as informing us that Exxon sponsors nature programs on public TV. So what?

Madonna's singular accomplishment has been the popularization of the public crotch grab, for females, that is. Mike Ditka broke ground in the male crotch grab several years earlier.

But still. I try to be big. I try to learn from my Dad who after a close brush with death, opened up with understanding and tolerance. Like when the nurse came to intensive care with some oral medication, some sickening pink syrupy mess and he obediently pried off his oxygen mask, gulped it down with an awful face. "Aachh, 'tis is ogly," he said an instant before it involuntarily erupted back up filling the face mask. Apologetic he tried to clean it up. "Aachh, but 'tis was ogly," he said again. "But maybe somebody likes it!"

Pete Leki

W. Hutchinson

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