Okay, y’all—everyone’s losing their minds over Lady Gaga at Coachella, and yeah- that was godawful, but hello? Did you even see her basically summon Satan on SNL?
Let’s be clear: Gaga didn’t just “host” Saturday Night Live. She snatched the stage like it was wearing her dress on prom night. Then stared straight into the camera like she was hexing an ex, and served up a three-course meal of chaos, debauchery, and straight-up occult symbolism. Honestly, it looked like Hot Topic and the Vatican had a baby and raised it in studio 54.
It wasn’t comedy. It was a designer séance. A bedazzled breakdown. A sparkly middle finger to subtlety.
And I’m sorry—but if that’s not demonic, what is?
🥩 The Long Goodbye: Cuck’d for Cooking School
So first course: “The Long Goodbye.” Gaga plays a woman leaving her boyfriend to become a culinary student in Paris, and honestly? Typical feminist- boss babe programming. He’s holding his dog, which is- cute, if I’m being honest. Nothing to crazy until he tells her “Have a delicious life” like he’s Julia Child possessed by Hannibal Lecter. Even Gaga is like, huh?
This was just an appetizer, the episode as a whole (every skit and the musical numbers) were marinated in themes of consumption and death—emotional, physical, and maybe even literal. It wasn’t typical drama, it was cannibal chic. They weren’t warming hearts with laughter, they were serving them with ice cream- literally.
“Eat, Pray, Slay,” but like, actually eat. People.
🏋️ Pip: Where Glee Meets Gym Class
Next we’re in a high school gym for a sketch called Pip, and it crashed harder than a group chat after someone screenshots receipts. This skit features a weightlifting competition that devolves into racial vengeance that ends in a literal bloodbath. The white boy, who’s also the bully, (because of course) tries to redeem himself but mid-apology ends up splattered (and that’s a laugh line). Gaga asks Pip multiple times ‘That was an accident, right?” But he just struts off like a mouse who just spotted a cheese cube, because he was a literal mouse (you can not make this up).
It’s campy, sure. But the message? No redemption for you whitey. Not unless you die first.
Call it humor all you want, but let’s not pretend this wasn’t bloodshed as character development. No healing arcs—just divine dropkicks in heels.
Y’all, even Regina George would’ve been like, “Whoa, that’s intense.” And she was hit by a bus.
🎤 Wonderful Tonight: A Power Ballad from the Pit of Hell
They continue the show with a skit that started as a cutesy parody song about a dinner date, but turned into a demonic fever dream faster than you can say “bless her mess.” Gaga kicks off the duet by announcing she’s down to hook up on the first date, and that’s when her date promises to write a “detailed play by play” of the entire event on his Substack. Her response? “I would expect nothing less.”
All of this is social engineering- flipping morals on their head and normalizing destructive behavior, but this is not even close to the worst of it.
Next thing you know, they’re blackout drunk in Times Square, she’s dry-shaving her entire body like it’s a humiliation ritual, and chomping on this man’s nipples. Then—y’all ready?—he admits he “came into money,” and I do mean that literally, as in no tissues nearby, so hello to a wad of $20s. Lady Gaga doesn’t even blink.
They continue to plan their evening to this classic melody- casually singing along when they come to a verse that has them crash a kid’s birthday while high on PCP, eating cake, and making toddlers cry while he yells “Goddamn, I feel wonderful tonight.” Honey, this wasn’t a date—it was a cursed casserole of chaos, and everyone involved needs Jesus and a nap.
Oh yeah, before I forget. They throw in a totally random line where, in unison, the pair declare “Italians aren’t white” because she’s Italian and it’s obviously repulsive to be mistaken for a white girl.
🐍 Birthday at Friendly’s: Satan Orders the Meatloaf
For dessert? Oh honey. Birthday at Friendly’s was the coup de grotesque. Gaga leads a literal waitstaff of devil worshipers at a local diner, cloaked in red and holding smoking goblets. Together they teach a customer the danger of lying about their birthday just to get free ice cream.
Joining her possessed posse is a pair of fallen angels wearing pentagrams- and an actual snake. Chanting like it’s a seance- we see them summon a demon, drink blood, eat flesh and perform a human sacrifice.
When Gaga declared, “You’ve been re-baptized by the mother of beasts,” I dropped my pecan pie and said, “Not today, Satan.”
✨ The Musical Numbers: Bewitched, Bothered, and Batshit
Kicking of the musical break- Lady Gaga slithered onto the SNL stage chanting “Abracadabra, amor-ooh-na-na.” Dressed like a satanic nun, she wasn’t just delivering a banger — she was casting a televised glam-hex. Cloaked in sequins and pulsating light, Gaga transformed Studio 8H into a pop coven, crooning an incantation that walks the line between Top 40 and occult glossary.
With “abracadabra” — the Aramaic spell meaning “I create as I speak” — repeated like a sonic sigil, and “amor” and “morta” invoking love and death like two hands of the same mystical coin, the performance felt less like a concert and more like a spell. Add the hypnotic “ooh-na-na” glossolalia, and what you’ve got isn’t just music — it’s witchcraft with a beat. Watch twice, and you might not just be humming the hook… you might be under it.
And then “Killah” hit like a glam-rock murder confession, where she openly sings: “Hungry for a homicide.” Again, we ask: is this pop music, or an initiation rite?
“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” — Proverbs 18:21
“And they that hate me love death.” — Proverbs 8:36
This wasn’t music. It was a musical exorcism with merch.
🎭 Finale: Gender Soup, Melting Ice Caps, and Western Decay—With a Side of Jazz Hands
Even the filler skits came dressed to kill. Runny mascara that glamorizes public hysteria? They make sure to throw in a funeral joke. That’s followed up with a skit that literally takes place in a funeral home. When Little Red Glasses came around- there was finally one with out a nod to death, but weirdly mentioned food every other line- even featured a baker.
And then there was No More Slay– a “comedy” sketch with zero laughs, but tons of propaganda, and of course, a focus on death- as well as dining. Takes place at an eatery called ‘Toast’ and repeats the word ‘slay’ over and over. Pretty much everything wholesome got roasted like a hog on Easter. Gender? Fluid. Mother Earth? “Poo’d on.” Culture? Declared legally deceased.
If you’re over 30 and use modern slang- “you’re stealing words from people and need to give them back.”
They say it’s satire. Sweetie, it felt more like a moral house fire set to pop music.
👁 If You Didn’t Get the Hint, Here It Is… This Wasn’t Entertainment. It Was Initiation.
So let’s not sugarcoat it like a poisoned praline: Lady Gaga didn’t perform- she preached. With choreography, couture, and a cauldron full of “what in the actual hell.”
“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood…”
And Lord knows Lady Gaga came for all of it—flesh, blood, and your unsuspecting living room.
P.s… I low-key think she eats people.
Anyway, time for this Byrd to fly. Bye Bye Now.