Too much flesh can make you go gaga

Fred Khumalo: In keeping with her characteristic public insolence, Lady Gaga appeared at a fashion show in New York this week wearing ... no, with her body covered in, one of her crazy outfits, if those rags could be called an outfit at all. And she was on stilts, for I can't describe those things as shoes. I don't have to describe them, just look at the pictures.

Anyway, the stilts and the "outfit" were the least of my concerns.

Having previously seen Lady Gaga appear at a celebrity shindig wearing a dress made out of meat, I thought I was now beyond shock. That's right, fillets and strands of meat, and strutting all over the red carpet. I wasn't shocked; I was nauseated at the waste of meat. Where I come from, we have great respect for meat, and to see it being wasted on the body of an anorexic waif can be quite nauseating.

At this week's fashion show, having driven her admirers gaga with her latest "outfit" and those stilts, she went on to strip off her "clothes" right there in the middle of the proceedings. This to the merriment of the insatiable tabloids, which ran page spreads of her nakedness.

Without thinking twice, I sent the online version of the pictures of her to a number of my friends, as they had appeared in The Sun newspaper. Not the local rag. The Sun of London. Some of my friends sent me big-up messages, while others retorted angrily, warning me never to send such "trash" to their work e-mails. But there was a nudge-nudge, wink-wink to the tone of some of the e-mails. Some suggested that I send such "trash" to their private e-mails. Which spoke volumes.

All of a sudden I began to feel like 40-something US politician Anthony Weiner, who recently sent a picture of his crotch to a student in her 20s, and mistakenly posted it on Twitter. When cornered, the man who would like to be mayor of New York claimed that his Twitter account had been hacked, and some pervert had posted the lewd picture. Under increasing pressure, he ultimately admitted that he was a serial offender when it came to sending lewd pictures to women.

Let me admit, I was embarrassed when some of my friends raised concerns about the Lady Gaga pictures I had sent them, even though I wasn't the source of the pictures. They were already in the public domain, for crying out loud. But why was I embarrassed? I have in the past written some bold and sexually provocative tales in one of my books, Bitches Brew, without feeling an iota of guilt or embarrassment.

There's a part of me that gets irritated by grumpy people such as Pastor Errol Naidoo, who said Naked News, which is flighted late on Friday night on e.tv, should be banned. Listen, pastor, sex happens. That's why we are perambulating the earth - we are products of sex. And we shall continue practising - and possibly perfecting? - what our forebears started engaging in a long time ago.

But, at the risk of contradicting myself, I also do get nervous and worried when people cheapen such a lovely, spiritual, memorable act.

By baring all and plastering images of their crotches all over the place, the likes of Lady Gaga and Weiner and his wiener leave very little to the imagination. As a result, unlike our forebears, we do not get easily excited these days. We have seen it all, thanks to the Gagas and Weiners of this world. They have stripped sex of its mystique. You see, the potency of sex is the mystique, the allure, the hints that get dropped on the way to the bedroom. If it's too much in your face, it simply turns you off. We love the suspense, the seduction. Subtle intimations of sex can drive many people bonkers (pun intended).

In my language, the likes of Weiner and Gaga would be called amanuku, amadlabha. They are spoiling the allure of sex. They are making sex vulgar, cheap.

Yes, when our wives and children are not looking, many of us drool at Lady Gaga in her near-naked glory. But I don't think we want to see her completely naked. We want our imaginations to be teased and titillated. But her "sexuality" can also be an annoyant, to coin a new word. You see, I have watched her a number of times on TV, but can't remember what her voice sounds like, let alone the lyrics of her songs. Why? Men can't multi-task. All that I am able to do when she appears on TV is to watch her body - an act which shuts out my ability to listen to what she is saying. Talk about a one-track mind. But can you blame me? Come on, guys, let's own up.

Anyway, stripped of all hype and celebrity, Gaga is just a simple lass. Okay, she's got a nice body, shapely legs, as I've already suggested, but the face is actually nothing to write home about - if you must write home about these things. She must have pondered on her weaknesses before she embarked on her mission to assume an outrageously outrageous persona. When I first saw her on TV, I was sitting with my children - youngest seven and eldest 12 - and I duly switched the channel. Turns out I was too late. They knew the lyrics of her "songs" and they could imitate her pelvic gyrations. I had to gruffly tell them to stop. They told me her real name, and they even told me why she had decided to assume her persona. When she embarked on her career she thought she was too plain: she wanted to outshine the Queen of Shock, Madonna. Interestingly, both ladies are Americans of Italian extraction. Madonna's real name is Louise Ciccone and Lady Gaga's real name is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta. I don't blame her for changing her moniker. I would do the same. Ndumiso Mapholoba Humphrey Didymus Ngcobo doesn't make for a memorable celebrity name. Phobs N does, or Freddie Kay. But hey, we are getting sidetracked here.

All I was really saying is I am no longer gaga about Lady Gaga. She must try new tricks - possibly ones that don't focus on her sexuality. That is sooo last year (rolling my eyes).