Madonna performs at SAP Center in San Jose on Oct. 6, 2012. Roman Gokhman/STAFF.

The other day, my sister sent me a photo of a woman/robot/mannequin with perfect skin, inflatable lips and cheeks reaching so hard for its red hairline that its puffy fake eyes were almost closed.

Rendering: Adam Pardee/STAFF.

The statue’s features were only eclipsed by a giant pair of gelatinous sacs just below the chin that held an evil-but-tight smile. On the exposed jelly bags were pasties. These kickballs were very well made or fresh out of the box, as they deftly defied all of gravity’s exhausted attempts, proudly looking just like when the whole package rolled off the sex robot factory’s conveyor belt.

It took me a couple exchanges with my sister to realize that the image was not a sex robot. It was a human sex robot … Madonna.

Ahhhh … well, now I get it. I wasn’t ready for Madonna.

Mt. Madonna, 64, has been semi-dormant the past few years, at least in my corner of this world, which exists in a dark room connected to the outside by WiFi signals and a cat sitting in the window, reporting what he sees out there.

My cat explained last week he’d just read that it was the 30th anniversary of Madonna’s Sex book, and she was celebrating by insulting people. Which made me all warm inside.

“Now Cardi B can sing about her WAP. Kim Kardashian can grace the cover of any magazine with her naked ass and Miley Cyrus can come in like a wrecking ball. You’re welcome bitches,” Madonna posted on Instagram, with a clown emoji at the end.

Cardi B, my cat explained, responded to the post, writing: “I literally payed (sic) this woman homage so many times cause I grew up listening to her…she can make her point without putting clown emojis and getting slick out the mouth.”

Like my cat said, “No she can’t. She’s Madonna.”

Cardi B also said, “These icons really become disappointments once u make it in the industry. That’s why I keep myself to myself.”

The only way Madonna could disappoint me and millions of other people from the 1980s still simultaneously lustful and terrified of her, was if she shut up.

She and Cardi B made nice a bit later, so Madonna could get back to work focusing on sending boobie pictures out over the Internet.

Madge made a great point earlier in that same post. I don’t condone her grammar, but great point nonetheless:

“30 years ago I published a book called S.E.X. In addition to photos of me naked there were photos of Men kissing Men, Woman kissing Woman and Me kissing everyone. I also wrote about my sexual fantasies and shared my point of view about sexuality in an ironic way.”

That she did. And people lost their minds. Women on record-company leashes were not supposed to behave that way. Even ones who, a decade into her career, hadn’t found a sexual, artistic or iconic boundary she didn’t find smashable.

Then she got real. She wasn’t just dressing up as Marilyn Monroe or a peep-show stripper for a little boy (which was oddly acceptable then). She was challenging the church with videos of burning crosses and a Black Jesus. She was openly talking about things controllable girls didn’t talk about. Then she started showing us, in ways no mainstream entertainer dared. It was artful, it was entertaining and—while so frightening to so many—tasteful.

“I spent the next few years being interviewed by narrow minded people who tried to shame me for empowering myself as a woman,” Madonna continued. “I was called a whore, a witch, a heretic and the devil.”

Self-absorped, too. Which was far more accurate. But barrier-smashing usually requires ego, at some point.

I also read something this week from a scholarly source saying much of the so-called ground Madonna claims she broke was already done so years earlier by African American women. It’s true, to a certain extent. In most cases of modern popular culture, it wasn’t the white people doing it first.

But Madonna’s barrier-smashing really was different. Those African American artists didn’t have MTV beaming them every day into living rooms all over America, where culture battles raged as suburban parents struggled to respond.

 

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Their daughters were dressing like this pretty white girl from the Midwest who’d gone insane and was daring to act sexual and show off her body. She even acted like she was in sexual control of the pretty men around her instead of the far more acceptable other way around. People loved her or hated her. There was very little Madonna middle ground. The more people wanted to call the fire department, the more sex gas Madonna poured on the fire.

She was honest and she was right. Yes, sometime annoying and ego-driven. But she was necessary.

Madonna is every bit the groundbreaking icon she says she is. And if she wants to get our attention in 2022 by semi-lamely announcing she’s now gay, which she did a few weeks ago and was bizarre because, duh, or send semi-naked pics of her body that’s had its share of work … why not? Women in their 60s are still hot and Madonna wants us to know it. I pray she never learns to act her age; it’s just so boring.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.