The operative taps the microphone to present a public service announcement.
The Center for Career Control has announced to the makers of Damage Control that a plague has stricken the entertainment industry, an elusive, unpleasant illness that can ruin a career faster than a Ward Connerly diversity speech. With that in mind, we present the following warning ...
The operative turns around and tacks up a huge sign reading "DO NOT F**K MADONNA" on the board.
Her name is Madonna Ciccone, we have been lead to believe. She's a wily, seductive minx who uses the idea of sexuality more than actual looks. She's actually kind of skanchy, a trashy kind of Italian white girl who likes ethnic salami. She's made music that has been good, bad, and indifferent in completely random intervals. She founded her career by boinking dance producer Jellybean Benitez, (and how many of his HOLA Records acts have gone beyond selling wood?), and has continued to sleep her way to the bottom. Not to mention getting weirder and weirder in her tunes, farther away from the fun that made her vaguely tolerable. She's a black hole (pun intended) and we intend to show her crimes thusly ...
The operative dims the lights and cues up the overhead projector.
Let's look at a list of careers ruined by Madonna's rotting crotch. First up is the missing-in-action Devante Swing. Once a member of multiplatinum whining, er, singing group Jodeci, he was top shelf, a widely sought producer and player. In what could only be deemed a fit of "doin' 4 much," he sank his man-tool into the Material Whirl and whoot, there it was. How many tracks he got on the radio now? Zip. How many people tryin' to get him in their magazines? Zilch. And so on. Our reports indicate he now does security outside Magic Johnson Theatres.
The operative places up another picture.
Big Daddy Kane, who sought to be a combined Marvin Gaye and Malcolm X (talk about a contact high) also wanted Ciccone cream in his coffee. His disappointing last album was probably still under the influence of that true blue white heat, as he came off dryer than a rice cake in Albequerque. Popcorn stand, Magic Theatres. Sad.
The operative places a slide with several pictures on it and refers to it.
Our last three cases are worse. The first is Vibe poster boy Tupac Shakur, who the operative had the pleasure of shooting in Las Vegas and could have insured a much quicker death if not for freelancers driving. The order to kill him came down (again, pun intended) the very night he crossed the borderline for a lucky star.
Defensive phenomenon Dennis Rodman was reputed to have got into the groove and has been in a rut ever since, dragging tiredly into his last ring and being drubbed out of the league while trying to get Carmen Electra to be like a prayer, or like a virgin.
Comedienne Sandra Bernhard, once a contemporary of Paul Riser and Jerry Seinfeld in the John Carson days has fallen to the depths of a sideshow freak for alternative lifestyle women, barely able to cop a few grand for a performance.
Finally, dancer Carlos Leon never even got a career, and will always have "Madonna's Baby Daddy" plastered on his driver's licence.
There's no solid evidence, but its rumored Madonna was even seen in JFK Jr.'s plane the night before it's fateful crash. As Mary might say, it's goin' down.
Damage Control wishes you all the best of luck in your careers, and to help that along, suggests you not justify her love, but validate your parking and get to steppin. This public service announcement has been brought to you by Commissioner Allen Gordon and those fine, wacky people at Rap Pages. Thank you, and good night.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Several people have noted that Warren Beatty seemed to survive, as did Sean Penn, Jose Canseco, and others. However, who sees the waking up screaming in a cold sweat, who was there to witness the application of cremes and cures for various surprising and embarrassing genital afflictions? It is the opinion of Damage Control that everybody who takes a Ciccone Holiday ends up on some National Lampoon Vacation isht.
