There Are Mistakes, and, Then, There Are Mistakes
Inestimably wretched, brain-concussing voice notwithstanding
(With its piranha-like, hyperbolic melisma-roulades killing each syllable),
I can almost excuse quasi-Hispanic, Sapphic soul sister Christina Aguilera,
For adulterating, degrading, bastardizing, defiling, desecrating, molesting
Our "Star-Spangled Banner" rendition of "Deutschland über alles."
After all, who wouldn't easily muff, fluff, flub, fuck up its archaic lyrics
And its melody's absurdly, outrageously conceived, treacherous registers,
Which not even an operatic-fat-lady, laughing-hyena diva could reach?
Furthermore, who, diving, butt-first, into its Baltimore Harbor minefield,
Wouldn't succumb, with suffocating frustration, to its fascistic imagery?
If I have any bone, at all, to pick with boner-pulling Christina Aguilera,
I suppose it's to question her boneheaded choice of material and venue.
I can't imagine a quicker way to seppuku one's artistic reputation
Than by oversouling our daunting, vaunted anthem, at the Super Bowl...
Unless it'd be "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," at Prince William's wedding.
02/09/11 - (1)