#TrufflefriesareThug
In the New York Times, my new patron saint, Lynn Hirschberg, has a profile piece on child-whine annoying, day-glo revolutionary M.I.A. that makes me thrilled to be alive.
A few choice quotes:
“With our video, we were really copying ‘Telephone,’ ” Maya says now, referring to Gaga’s recent video with Beyoncé. “Both our videos are road movies. We kill people, and they kill people. They start out in a prison, and we start out in a squat, hunting people down.” Maya zipped her lips again. “I can’t talk about Gaga anymore,” she said. “All I’ll say is, it’s upsetting when babies say ga-ga now. It used to be innocent. Now, they’re calling her name."
“I’d like to turn this page into fabric,” she said. “I know someone who can do that. And then I want to take that fabric and make it into a jumpsuit. I’d like to turn censorship into fashion.”
and, my absolute favorite line in the entire piece:
“I kind of want to be an outsider,” she said, eating a truffle-flavored French fry.
M.I.A. has been a pain in the ass for a while, basically attempting to get away with the same things Bono tends to get media-crucified for: talking loudly about revolutionary politics while counting her wads of cash, making consistently less interesting (or even good) music than what warranted the hype she rode in on, and dressing like fingerpainted kindergartener puke. The only thing actually MORE annoying than M.I.A. is her douchetastic braphistopheles of an ex, Diplo (aka the man who can't even fucking spell the number 1 properly). At the very least, Diplo's doing some constantly amazing work musically. M.I.A., meanwhile, continues to espouse her...well, her shit...about being a fucking "fugitive" and "having more records than the KGB" (I assume she means the bar in New York, because to my knowledge girl's only done 2 albums and a mixtape, with the mixtape > any of the other shit).
As far as your fans...your fans...your...wait, who ARE M.I.A. fans? Like, are there M.I.A. fans? Is there anyone who is ever more "Oh My Fucking God M.I.A. saved my life" and less "shit, I did some blow, let's listen to that 'What Can I Get For Ten Dolla' song, it's got a great beat"?
Listen, Maya, if that is your real name and it's not, like, Janice Smith or some shit: you're married to a rich motherfucker, you're a rich motherfucker, your record label's a rich motherfucker. Stop acting like you're hiding from the Feds in a tin-foiled cardboard box with nothing but 3 pineapples and a fucking glock to keep you company. Sure, your dad was a freedom fighter. Cool. I know this kid whose dad started an ice cream truck, that doesn't mean that, during the summer, I hit him up for soft-serve.
You're rich, bitch. And Hirschberg called your trash bag & leg warmer empire on being made of...ok, on being made of trash bags and leg warmers.
So I'm going to call Hirschberg and thank her. FIYAH BLOW POW or whatever it is M.I.A think constitutes "terrorist" language. I am seriously thankful that I live in a day and age where a writer realizes the utter brilliance in M.I.A. eating truffled french, I mean FREEDOM, fries.
lynn hirschberg, m.i.a. 
Reader Comments (1)
LMAO! This post! Brilliant! I love your writing. You've got a strong voice.
And I agree that the writer did certainly pop a few of M.I.A.'s tirelessly-constructed provocateur balloons, I actually didn't think M.I.A. would be pissed about it, since she appears to purposely act rude, snotty and foul on purpose. It's part of her "rebel" persona to come off as bitchy in interviews.