Hooray. There were three things the world wanted before the year was out: to see a new "baby bump" on Kim Kardashian, to watch Justin Bieber luxuriating on a balcony with fake blond hair and his weewee hanging out, and…hearing something new from England's mad cow, ADELE.
While all the world cared about Kardashian and Bieber, it was mostly "The Real Lame Housewives of England" who needed that ADELE fix. These houswives seem to resemble Monty Python members in drag. For nearly three achy-breaky years, they were afraid that their porcine and bellowing role model was done. After all, another fat woman, Sam Smith, got the assignment to sing the new James Bond movie theme song.
The Real Housewrecks initially loved ADELE for the same reason as they did Susan Boyle: here was a dowdy, ordinary, not too bright replica of themselves up there being applauded. Better yet, both demonstrated that with cosmetic skill, the sows could put on silks and be made "glamorous." Adele seems to spend most of her day getting make-up lathered onto her face with a trowel. Then an army of art school fag-Banksy types etch her eyebrows and eyelashes, add blush to thin her fat cheeks, and chisel on her lipstick liner. They also flare her nostrils to be less pig-like, and do up her hair so that she no longer quite resembles a rabid porcupine.
ADELE, you might remember, became a star when she brayed a song about confronting a man smart enough to leave her. Mad cows all over England could moo their admiration for this gutsy 200 pound haggis mooooving on with her life. ADELE showed the world that a broken heart could no longer feel pangs of pain if it was encased in enough layers of fat. And if the bold sentiments of all-conquering ego came out at a high enough decibel to knock every trainspotter off the platform.
And yet, there were "haters." Why would anyone hate ADELE? Could it be her phony tears? Her phony blabs about her sad life and storybook success? Her phony fucking face?
Some people are not haters, they're just jadded. Anyone who already suffered those shitty Amy Winehouse albums resents being coerced into caring about another husky-voiced loony with cartoon make-up on. No! No! No! Jaded music listeners also figure there's still ARETHA around, and she's the original fat homely broad with a voice that can be heard by Ethel Merman in her coffin. So why care about someone with a team of hacks who help create sound-alike mega-hits so commercial they could also be jingles for England's constant TV commercials for online gambling?
And that leads to the "Sky Fall" (or cloud download, as we say on the Internet.)
It's an ADELE single!
Read that line carefully. This isn't saying it's by ADELE. No, it's from a drag queen imitating Adele. The perp popping the porcine pooper is Sherry Vine, probably the best "campy-dirty" female impersonator around. There certainly ain't much competition, since Kathy Griffin, Chelsea Handler, and SNL's Leslie Jones are also aggressive and gruesome but are actual vagina-owners.
Offended? You haven't heard the song yet!
AN ADELE SINGLE 'Cos My Whole's So Deep