Dueling Divas

A call was put out to all glamorous and talented divas.  Via LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter a proposal was offered.  It was published in EL Magazine, Cosmopolitan, Vogue and The New Yorker.  Oprah named it the “Diva Pitch."  Anderson Cooper talked about it for 15 minutes.  The View just couldn’t shut up about the “Opportunity.”

Actually, it was more like a dare than a proposal or pitch.  “Who can shout and serenade while another singer, with equal gifts of her own, is on that same stage simultaneously ‘crooning’?” 

Billed as the Duel of the Divas, there were rules to this musical brawl.  Each diva shall have her band playing.  The only thing shared would be a drummer, a PA system and the desire.  Bass players, keyboardists, guitars and brass were to be in separate “diva camps.”  On stage in front of their bands Divas shall gyrate and make melody.  Embattled musicians will bang away using their instruments more like weapons. 

Such a chaotic cacophony may not be tolerable to some sensitive Purveyors of Pop.  This is understandable.  However, the “noise” was part of the dare.  High energy, high profile virtuosos would square off in song. 

The exhibition was to be an All-Out-Contest, the winner taking the spoils.  What are those spoils?  Bragging rights – one diva destroying the composure of the other by poise, presence and chutzpah.  Such an extravaganza requires an exotic venue; Bung Karno Stadium, Jakarta.

Dozens of divas, the famous to the super-famous, answered the call.  Sarah, Beyonce, Celine, Taylor, Madonna, Lady Gaga, Adele were up for it.  Aretha, Mylene, Christina, Rihanna, Diana and Miley were contenders. 

All divas would audition for the opportunity (no exceptions).  Auditions would take place two at a time, simulating the concert.  Everyone need be charismatic and in-voice for a chance at the ultimate show-down.  The locale for such a circus was MGM Grand Garden Arena, Las Vegas, Nevada.  It was the hottest ticket on the strip. 

Giant voices and tender egos were waged against one another.  Competition was so ferocious that high-powered lobbyists were hired to convince, coerce and cry if necessary to get their lady into the concert. 

Fans weren’t ignored in the selection process.  Their input was applied to the bedlam.  Enthusiasts were invited to choose their top ten favorite vocalists.  The first five devotees who included at the top of their list the same two divas ultimately picked would get an all-expenses paid trip to Jakarta.

After many hours the ardent musical tug-a-war was abruptly halted.  Apparently the competition was so close promoters chose to pick the two combatants by lottery.  Perhaps organizers got tired of hysterical divas pressuring them to “please let it be me.”  Divas had to be present at the drawing to win a spot in “the duel.”  The drawing would take place in two days. 

Immediately, a plot was afoot (quickly discovered, however) to "stuff" the bin containing competing names.  Money was offered to employees of the extravaganza to “fix” the outcome.  Favors of an intimate sort were offered.  Associates had to be isolated from the groping hands of famous players.

The lotto day arrived with a hush amongst the posse of prima donnas.  Well known personalities were locked arm in arm and intent.  In whispers women were wishing their fellow divas luck (at least outwardly).  With the moment at hand, a giant tumbler loaded with names of divas stopped rotating.  Two cards were plucked from the barrel.  A lone figure walked into a spotlight with the cards in his hand.  Edgy idols leaned forward anticipating the news.  A terse masculine voice spoke, “Two names were drawn – Madonna and Lady Gaga.”  The man raced away from the podium before angry artists could vent their disappointment.  Cheers, shouts and screams rattled the room. 

Network and cable television honed in on the famous faces.  Every emotion, every swear word was streamed live and recorded for YouTube and Hulu.   A good portion of the first world was simultaneously expressing the same fits and gesticulations.  Diva mania engulfed the internet.

A battle of the Divas – One older, one younger would erupt in Jakarta, Indonesia.  Tickets sales were immediately brisk and the show sold out within an hour. 

The cinders and murk from the spectacle that chose two musical combatants began to dissipate.  In its place festered nagging mysteries.  Nervous questions welled up in the women warriors who won.  It was whispered on cell phones, “Have you heard of these promoters?”  “Do you know who they are?”  “Who funded all this?”  “Why in Jakarta?”  Muslim authorities had previously bounced Lady Gaga out of Bung Karno.  In their words, “she is an abomination!”  But all that had changed recently – or had it? 

It was late to be asking these questions, but the heat of competition had made such issues less apparent.  They were large and visible now.  Even bigger mysteries would soon present themselves. 

Twenty-four hours before the concert fans were arriving in Jakarta, anticipating a great time.  It was apparent that not all the audience was the usual crowd lured by the “diva experience.”  For sure adoring fans had bought tickets and were anxious for the performance to begin.  The exotic location was entertainment enough for the moment.  They hung out in swanky hotel rooms (part of the concert package) and poolside with an open bar and lots of sunscreen. 

On concert day fans queued up early at Bung Karno Stadium to claim their place in history.  However, come concert time they were positioned strangely.  Paying fans, from all over the world were not allowed on the floor of the stadium.  They were sequestered to the 80,000 permanent seats that surrounded the stadium arena.  A chain link fence segregated them from the arena and the stage where diva combat would unfold.  Rolls of razor wire had been installed atop the hastily erected chain barrier.  Someone was very serious about keeping fans from climbing over the fence to the raised platform where divas would duel!  Or was it something else?  The same type of fence was installed in front of the stage.  This was all peculiar.

There was a lot of security, as always at a concert like this.  Security here looked different and their behavior was odd.   No large black letters were stenciled on t-shirts identifying the security company.  These guys wore black “suits” and dark glasses.  They were not local or native to Indonesia.  Caucasian security was in charge – it could be that the promoters imported their own people. They weren’t friendly; not the least.  In fact, they seemed suspicious of everyone and reticent to render aid or to keep security.  This was no way to make fans feel “at home.” 

All security forces wear earpieces - no exception here.  They probably weren’t listening to diva music on smart phones or iPods.  They were communicating with each other by radio (suit to suit), but why?  If it was to keep order they weren't succeeding.  Why didn’t security break up a hair pulling altercation between two high-strung diva fans?  The men-in-suits seemed to enjoy watching the “action.”

Below the stage another enigma unfolded.  A crowd filling the floor of the stadium wore Middle Eastern clothing.  They were men, not one woman.  Some wore shalwar kameez, the traditional clothing of Afghanistan and Pakistan.  Others wore Arab garb; dishdashas (ankle length robes) and dressed their heads with yashmags. 

The conundrum on the stadium arena would soon become an exciting prospect for diva fans in the permanent seats.  Middle-eastern men were not the usual retinue, no diva material amongst them it seemed.  They arrived by tramp freight; by seldom maintained airplanes; by small improvised sailboats and on foot.  They crossed the Indian Ocean with refugees crowded close together in a desperate bid for political shelter.  All were heading to the somewhat open arms of Australia except for those planning on an alternate destination. 

Indonesia is an unusual stop for pilots guiding refugees to a far off land.  Real refugees stayed on the boats.  They watched men (fellow passengers) disembark and pour into assemblage areas on the docks of Tanjung Priok Port (Jakarta).  Frenetic leaders herded them into buses.  Loud breaks disengaged and the wheels rolled away to a place unknown.  Men in buses sang songs of triumph and chanted “God is great.”  Allah’s warriors had been living in caves and wandering mountainous regions.  Now, seasoned agents of terror wore new clothes for the city.  They wanted to look their best for a destiny drawing very close.  The terminus for everyone that day was Bung Karno Stadium nine miles away. 

Local Muslims were stadium bound as well.  Ahmadi Muslims are not recognized as a religion in Indonesia.  Their frustrated numbers were in motion; an act of defiance to other local Muslims and an act of faith.  They would show the rest of the country how devout they were.  Some drove by car and others took TransJakart (rapid transit) across town from their homes to Bung Karno.   

Muslims were streaming into the stadium.  Many were boys, some not so boyish.  The field was filling fast.

Nubile women, the fans in the seats, were thinking these might be wealthy Arabs who owned oil leases in sandy palaces.  They shouted and waved at the prospect of Middle-Eastern men with money. It was hard to believe these guys liked Lady Gaga!  The truth was even less believable. 

The commotion was unsettling to the males populating the stadium floor.  Agitation simmered in the furrows of their brow.  Who were these sluts shouting at them from on high?  The arena was quickly becoming a conflicted crowd.  What happened to the Jihad?  They were yearning for weapons left behind on mountain trails.  Vapors of perfume drifted down and settled into unwilling nostrils.  This was more disturbing. 

All at once every soldier for Allah discovered he had a penis.  For sure each man had a gun now! How were they going to rid themselves of these erect purveyors of prodigy?  With a hand on their bulging trousers they shook their fists at the abomination waving and smiling in the seats above.  There were no virgins in site (praise Allah).  That was to be expected.  Virgins run to home and family when fornicating infidels are near.

Lady Gaga and Madonna sat in separate dressing rooms and listened to the crowd.  They were excited to hear the commotion; thinking it was concert goers impatient to bring on the show.  Within ten minutes stadium lights dimmed and vanished.  Arc lamps beamed and two familiar voices shouted opposing songs.  Drums pounded a rhythm.  Guitars slammed power chords amplified across the stadium.  Brass was braying while basses thumped a low line under the songs.  Dueling Divas propelled themselves onto the stage vying for the audience’s attention.

Muslim warriors took a wide-eyed look at naked legs and gyrating female hips on the platform above them.  They had been too long in the mountains.  This further enraged and engorged them.  Again, they patted their pricks and shook a fist, “Where are we gonna put this?”

Madonna cackled and said, “Let me demonstrate.  Hit it, guys!”  The band started into the intro of Like A Virgin.  Shouts and screams from fans collided with epithets and whistles from Mohammad’s warriors in the arena.   

Members of the ANO, the ASG, the Taliban, Abu Sayyaf (to name but a few Islamic terror groups present) were lured into Bung Karno.  They were promised martyrdom and bestowal of virgins.  Instead there were two whores on stage and a stadium full of loose women - sources of mockery and lust.  Sexually frustrated men yelled, “Where are our virgins, we are here to die for Allah.”  These guys were a tough audience, even though they were literally willing to die?

Amongst the cacophony and the mayhem the music pulsed and the divas vocalized.  There was a sudden screech from the amplifiers.  In an instant vocals and instruments went silent.  All that was left was the pounding rhythm of the drums, but that too quickly fell silent.  Stage lights went dark – the stadium was just about completely black.  Shouting stopped. The stadium was hushed for a few seconds; long enough to hear something different and sinister. 

The chopping noise from the blades of large helicopters filled the arena.  The stadium was drenched with flood lights, as bright as stars, below the powerful rotors of descending whirlybirds.  Into Bung Karno they circled like giant stinging insects.  Muslim men realized too late that an attack was imminent.  It was useless anyway – they had no weapons.  Firearms discharged and grenades fell from the choppers. 

In the seats diva fans were terrified.  They raced towards the exits as did Mohammad’s soldiers.  However, every escape route had been barricaded or locked by concert security.  With assault weapons the men in suits and sun shades bore down on the children of Islam.  Muslims stood in the middle of the crossfire from above and on the arena floor.  Their tools of terror had been left behind on the streets of a mangled homeland. Promises to supply weaponry upon arrival at Bung Karno had been a ruse.

At the start of the conflagration, divas and musicians dropped to the floor.  They crawled to the back of the stage toward the stairs, hoping to escape.  Dressing rooms would be a safe haven.  But they were thrown on their backs by a violent shaking.  The entire stadium was pitching back and forth.  All but the divas were thrown off stage. 

The ground under Bung Karno was rolling in waves.  An earthquake added further assault to the pandemonium of carnage and entertainment.  Pilots in helicopters were caught unaware.  Swaying walls caused the rotors of one chopper to clip the edges of the stadium.  It flew into the other copter and both slammed into the stadium floor.  Christian warriors joined their Muslim brethren on the killing field of Bung Karno Stadium.

The earth shook so violently that a fissure opened up below the stadium.  Muslims, helicopters, weapons and diva fans began falling into the cavern.  The earth was an open mouth with a rapacious hunger for debris and humanity.  It swallowed everyone.  There were no innocent witnesses to the conflagration.  All were equal in the destruction and death.  All reaped the same dark end.

Only the stage resisted falling to the dreadful charm of the abyss.  The rubble from the destruction collected beneath the platform pushing it up with every violent shutter.  It was as if an altar was being thrust out of the demolition to a sublime restoration.

Rumbling and the shaking finally stopped.  The desolation was complete - not even a distant car alarm could be heard.  A full moon was bright in the sky, but nothing was left of the stadium to cast even a dim lunar shadow.

The two divas had clung to each other during the conflagration.  They now were in a heap on the stage.  Madonna pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around.  She said to Lady Gaga, "We killed them tonight!

Gaga smiled, “you are morbid.”  She tried to sit up but only managed to roll over onto Madonna.  Her boobs pressed into Madonna’s face.

“Easy there,” said Madonna.  “Girl you got big boobs.  Are they real?"

"They sure are.”  Lady Gaga tried once more, managing to sit up.  She looked at Madonna.  “I think we’re the only ones left alive.  Is God trying to tell us something?”

“Ya, I think he’s telling us to get our act together or He’ll drop us in the abyss next time.”

Lady Gaga smiled, “Ya know, you're an old broad but you still have the moves."

"You bet ya, girl," said Madonna.

"OK, Little Nonni, it's truth or dare time," said Lady Gaga. "Which will it be?"

Madonna smiled and put a finger to her lips and raised her eyes to the heavens and said, "I think I'll try truth."

"Do you think we'll make it out of here," asked Lady G.

"Well, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta . . .

Again the drone of beating helicopter rotors was loud in the dark distance.  This time news helicopters arrived along with those from the Army and Marines.  Both women gawked at the entourage of choppers and lights.

“I think we will,” said Madonna.

“With all the devastation around us I’m a little surprised they’re coming for us first,” said Lady Gaga.

“Of course they are,” said Madonna, “we’re big stars.”

Gaga was right to wonder about military helicopters moving in on what was left of Bung Karno.  They were looking for the contingent sent to attack Muslim terrorists.

Below the helicopters was complete devastation.  The stage looked more like a life raft resting on a sea of rubble.  Lady Gaga and Madonna leaped up and hopped around the stage, waving at their rescuers. 

With news cameras rolling rescuers helped the divas into a basket and hoisted them into a hovering helicopter.  Madonna and Lady Gaga waved and blew kisses at the cameras.

From an adjacent copter a reporter spoke via radio to the divas.  "How did you survive," she asked the singers?

“By the grace of God,” both women verbalized simultaneously.

In the rescue helicopter the divas were questioned tentatively by military brass.

“Ladies what did you see,” said the Colonel.

“Who are you,” asked Madonna.

“I’m Colonel Landon Hughes of the United States Marine Corp.”

“Well, Colonel, everybody died,” said Madonna.

“I was wondering why military helicopters attacked the concert, Colonel,” Lady Gaga spoke with resolve.

“Ladies, we have good reason to ask your assistance in this matter,” said the Colonel. . .

In the weeks to come rumors gained momentum concerning a Washington investigation into the Indonesian disaster, half a world away.  When Congress issued subpoenas to Lady Gaga and Madonna the ballyhoo erupted in the media. 

Information leaked from these proceedings and was channeled to news media.  Broadcast of the earthquake in Jakarta again occupied television networks world-wide.  Talking heads spoke as a banner rolled below that said; “CIA organized a multinational effort to annihilate the leadership of terrorist groups around the world.  The CIA used the cover of a Diva concert to raise money for the operation and conceal their movements.  Lady Gaga and Madonna were victims of this plot along with everyone else at Bung Karno Stadium.”

The death of thousands in Jakarta who would not have been there, if not for the concert, caused an outrage all over the world.  In the U.S. intense pressure overwhelmed legislators who knew they must make amends immediately.  Autumn elections were looming.

An inspiration came to promoters and congress.  Why not produce a world concert tour to raise money for those who lost loved ones in the massive quake.  That would play well with constituents back home.  It would give CNN, BBC, Euronews, MSNBC and Fox something to focus on other than ubiquitous pictures of carnage in Jakarta. 

The End of Days & Final Quake Concert Tour kicked off in Madison Square Garden.  Madonna and Lady Gaga repeated their performance cut short at Bung Karno.  No military and no quake this time. 

During the course of the world tour all Divas so inclined were pressed into service.  The singers were paired and took their turn doing battle on stage in venues globally.  

Countries implicated in the terror at Bung Karno divested assets.  Money generated by this was poured into so-called “donation accounts for victims” set up by tour promoters.  Hefty grants from secret sources were added to this.  Topped off by proceeds from The Tour, funds were carefully funneled to families who lost loved ones.  This included the families of Muslim warriors who were the object of the attack at Bung Karno.