A Woman's World Is Never Done

According to leading experts, American democracy faces extinction one again, which can only mean one thing: Katy Perry has a new song out. “WOMAN’S WORLD” (all caps) has been teased for the better part of a month, and unfortunately for us, she kept her word and released it. The song is, of course, about women’s lib, or something; a decidedly sonic descendant of the divine “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge that no one asked for. The cover art shows off her toned as hell, sober body with Arca-like metallic Centaur legs. I won’t go into the video except to say that she is dressed like Rosie the Riveter and pumps gas into her ass cheek. I’m not sure what any of this is supposed to say other than women be womening. Women be centaurs.

The song reminds us that even in this post-Roe vs Wade reality, women still run this town. It’s a song about women being lady bosses of their own destinies, who form LLCs weekly, are friends with Jessica Seinfeld and fly helicopters. What I’m saying is, “WOMAN’S WORLD” is about Lauren Sanchez. “Sexy! Confident!” she sings in a tinny cazoo voice. “So intelligent,” she adds. Mama, kudos for saying that. For spilling. “WW” is being drawn and quartered by most music critics and Gay Twitter. It is, obviously, not good. But I also don’t think it’s as horrific as everyone is saying. I think it’s fun. I do feel dumber having listened to it, but that is how I feel after hearing any of Katy’s songs. That is a true gift. I won’t pretend to be a scholar of song, but if lobotomy music is an art form, Katy Perry is a maestro.

I’m not going to blame Katy Perry for the fall of our Republic. There will be no I saw Goody Perry dancing with the Devil. She will not be accused of drying up the town well or blighting the village crops on my watch. One can’t help but laugh at the unfortunate timing of the song’s release, during President Biden’s “proof of life” press conference yesterday evening — his first in a staggering eight months. As Biden prattled on about NATO (literally who cares), bearing his veneers in vindictive sneer-smiles and barely concealing his mask-off contempt for the media, Katy said, “Girl, it’s time.” She then unleashed her anthem for white women who post Facebook statuses everywhere. The rest was herstory. I root for Katy, I really do. I’d like to think Katy Perry and I would be friends. She seems like a fun hang. I want to smoke cigs with her (sorry, but I just know she steams ‘em) and talk to her and Orlando Bloom about trauma and bunkers. They’ve gotta have a bunker. That, or they’ve secured a spot in Jeff Bezos’s.

I do believe that regardless of the song’s hollow battle cry, Katy Perry really does love women. Even when she teams up with a certain Scandanavian music producer/sex pest/abuser of women for a song about women “not going anywhere” — I still don’t know what that means, by the way. Where are women going? Maybe she feels she’s thwarting the Lady Rapture. Sticking it to Jesus who plans on opening up the heavens for only his favorite SheEOs.

Katy Perry is a tried and true NextDoor App Liberal who rides for equality but will vote for Rick Caruso and accept a free Cybertruck from Elon Musk. Regardless of her politics that feel natural to someone worth half a billion dollars, I know she means well. She’s a Maximalist Democrat, born in the sorrow of the Great Recession to make fun songs about diet bisexuality, teenage agony and ecstasy, etc. Comparing faggots to fireworks. 15 years into her career, though, she can’t help but exorcise the faith-based from her sound. Before she was on Warped Tour, she was a Christian singer. And she still sounds like one. She is the daughter of a Santa Barbara pentecostal pastor. That strange brand of Magic Hour Christianity that one cannot fully comprehend unless they live in California. A spirituality infused with marine layer and smog and proxy to celebrity. Katy Perry really is the ultimate California Girl, as she informed us years back. I can’t wait for “WOMAN’S WORLD” to be used during fellow Cali girl Kamala Harris’s inevitable presidential run. I am choosing to live in WOMAN’S WORLD until November. Let me pretend.

I didn’t understand how conservative this state is until I moved here. Really, other than the Bay Area and parts of Los Angeles, we are a Red state. The Newsmax-ass ghost story of 40 million godless Democrats living in LGBT socialist piggery is false. Sure, the state is becoming post-apocalyptic. But that’s not because of liberalism. It’s because no one has money. Except for Rick Caruso. And Katy Perry. And climate change rain cracking roads that no one wants to fix and fires in the Central Valley and driverless cars circling homeless encampments and meth and Fentanyl and school boards in Riverside County banning critical race theory and transness. Los Angeles, on the other hand, hasn’t swung in any kind of political direction. It’s neither a good nor bad thing. It is futile to try and describe just how bizarre LA has become in the last few years, especially. Last night while Biden defended his corpse status to a room of confused reporters, a prop plane circled over my neighborhood trailing a sky banner that said “PRINCE HARRY: INVESTIGATE MUMI’S DEATH.”

Los Angeles is a city of nine million people yelling “Why is no one talking about this?” into an empty room. No one is talking about this because no one knows the answer.