Well now that Taylor Swift is in cahoots with Joe Biden to rig this coming Sunday’s Super Bowl in favor of boyfriend Travis Kelce’s team the Kansas City Chiefs in what one conservative pundnut has called a “psyop,” and the right-wingnut lunatics who despise her for endorsing Democrats and presumably turning their innocent little girls into brainwashed pop music trollops are crawling all over one another to issue doomsday predictions should this vile and sinister plot succeed, with one shithouse-crazy rat of a commentator by the name of Rogan O’Handley even going so far as to bluntly warn that a Chiefs victory will result in, I kid you not, World War III and millions of innocent deaths, it seems as good a time as any to say that Swift is hardly Leo Rothstein (remember the 1919 Black Sox!) but rather a pop phenomenon and powerful cultural influencer possessed of immense talent and charm. I like her. I like her music. And I hope she is part of some sinister cabal to rig the Super Bowl. I love a good deep-state conspiracy. And I hate the San Francisco Giants.
Swift, as everybody who hasn’t lived under a rock since 2006 or so knows, began her career as a country artist before moving popwards and ultimately diving into the deep end of the synth-pop pool with 2014’s 1989. This led her to both immense popularity and cult status, with her fans, known as Swifties, hanging on her every last word, lyric, song, album, fashion choice, and romantic imbroglio, the last of which she often refers to in her songs.
Adulation has come with a good bit of slut-shaming and stalking—she was a real asshole magnet before she became the target of conservatives, most of whom are terrified of her because she has an enormous base and could actually entice them into voting, because the last thing the right-wingers in our fair nation want is young people voting. They tend to vote for the wrong sorts, namely politicians who aren’t members in good standing of the ever-growing lunatic wing of the Republican party.
Swift’s appeal is easy to understand. She’s bright, charismatic, has a great voice, writes catchy pop confections, and isn’t Charlie Daniels. And she’s not afraid to take musical risks, as she did with 1989. And they’ve paid off—1989 has gone nine-times platinum, which I think translates to sales of three billion copies, although I’m terribly bad at math. The country folks may not have liked it, although I’m betting many happily followed her into synth-pop territory. Her true fans, I’m guessing, would follow her anyway. If she were to collaborate with Laibach, or the ghost of Pol Pot for that matter, they’d be there to cheer her on.