On Katy Perry’s vagina
So yeah, after the jump there’s going to be a photo of a cunny. Probably best not to clickthrough if you’re at work or a family funeral.
Again, my retirement from frontline pop commentary deprived me of a shot on “developing” “a” “view” about Katy Perry last year, but this photo serves as a photo essay of my problem with her.
Educated ILBers, or indeed anyone out there who likes to pass off trivia gleaned from QI or Qwantz as intelligence, should be aware of the concept of the “cargo cult”. For the uninitiated: on a number of occasions, when airports have been built near remote tribes, the tribes have attempted to “copy” the airport in order to make aeroplanes land themselves. So they’ll clear out a runaway in a dirt track, turn a tree into a control tower, have some bro wave palm leaves around like landing signals… all in the belief that this will cause aeroplanes to turn up. A lack of understanding of cause and effect results in humour.
And this is what I get from Katy Perry, it’s what I got from the videos of “Waking Up In Vegas” (a banger, admittedly) and “Hot N Cold”. Katy Perry has seemingly been compiled by a gay man who has been cut off from straight society for ten years and was then told to go and focus group “what breeders find sexy” and compile a popstar thereof. That photo is like a fucking “I Spy Book of Obvious Sexual Signifiers In 2010″: the boobs, the hair, the dress, the upskirt, the swagger. And yet it’s all been thrown together with about as much care and attention as a Costcutter sandwich. And is about as appealing.
So yeah, Katy Perry: cargo cult of sexuality. Still, wouldn’t mind signalling for permission to land on her strip. amirite guys? Guys? Ah, please yourself.