If you are at all familiar with me, you know full well that the subject of Lady Gaga is one that warrants constant brooding within my world. One minute I'm spouting poisonous condemnations of the up-and-coming celebri-lite and the next I'm mumbling my way through "Poker Face" and its unstoppable "muh-muh-muh-my!" moments.I have encountered an artist that manages to simultaneously inspire equal levels of vitriol and joy. I've tried on no less than three separate occasions to weave together my inconsistent, unconnected Gaga thoughts to no avail. But with the recent news of Gaga's "Just Dance" creeping up to the number-one spot on the Billboard 200 Chart nearly one year after its initial release, I thought I'd gargle on some Gaga for a change. Keep in mind, though, that my thoughts are still forming and scattered; this is simply how I feel right now.

Chances are you've seen Gaga toting her disco stick along somewhere: On stage at the Miss Universe awards, on YouTube or perhaps even at your favorite late night New York City haunt. If not, you probably will soon. With a self-professed intention to save the world "one sequin at a time," Lady Gaga is on a mission to revitalize the pop world and bring new energy to the scene.

Her slow rise to fame has already granted her comparisons to the Queen of Pop herself, Madonna: Both artists grew within the New York City club circuit, slowly garnering a loyal fan base. Fear not, Madge enthusiasts-there's no competition.

On stage, Lady Gaga's performances are entertaining, if not briefly captivating. She performs in futuristic garb-tight V-cut leotards and exaggerated, sharp shoulder pads that make her appear not unlike a giant triangle onstage. Along with the fact that Gaga tends to sing live (a rarity in pop, though not necessarily a plus), she has an arsenal of props in tow: her often-mentioned "disco stick," a light-up ice wand that serves no real purpose other than to be swung about and stuck in between opportune places and chunky, black, illuminated LED glasses with scrolling text that reads "Pop music will never be low brow," to name a couple. There's even a strange vocoder microphone that she occasionally straps on for instant auto-tunage.

Off stage, Gaga conducts interviews, backup dancers at her side, as she vogues in massive shades. This is where her detractors can truly have a field day: Not only does Gaga give off a pretentious air of top pop-mindedness, but she's got a way of speaking that falls somewhere between Paris Hilton and a slightly stoned Fran Drescher.

Last October the Lady released her debut album, The Fame. With the collection, Gaga hopes to spread the word that fame is a state of mind and that with the right attitude, anyone can construct their own celebrity. It's, like, totally the American dream!

Now we're here in 2009. And as much as statements like "Pop music will never be low brow" fired me up with the promise of Nü-Pop at the onset of 2008, I have since been left with nothing but a cheap, tinny feeling in my mouth in this post-Fame world. To be fair, it is the winter, and I tend to suffer from seasonal, allergy-related sinus flare-ups that cause the same feeling, but I digress.

Ironically, I've never encountered an artist (and keep in mind, I've listened to STEPS before) that managed to cheapen the genre quite so much. For while Gaga may claim to be saving the world "one sequin at a time" with her music, I have severe doubts about her legitimacy as an original act (to say the least!). After all, prancing onstage with a slapped-on Bowie lightning bolt, a borrowed Grace Jones ensemble and a stage name inherited from a Queen track doesn't make the man. Rather, it just makes for one large "Greatest Hits" performance piece dedicated to the finer artists of our generation.

But the worst part is that I don't even want to feel this way. It's exciting to see an artist cite Grace Jones' latest album as one of her favorites of '08 or refer to Liza Minelli as a style icon. She seemingly shares the same love and respect of the industry's finest as I do, yet her shtick ultimately remains unembraceable and forced.

Yet all is not amiss-The Fame was one of my Top 10 albums of 2008. As a whole, the album contains many more worthwhile hits ("Paparazzi" and "Poker Face") than misses (every ballad on the album) and performs extremely well upon its first play. But after three weeks, I completely forgot about the album and lost all interest in the Gaga Project. Why? Each track consists of three minutes of middle-range production, hook-heavy electro and a mouthful of self-prescribed fame. The Fame is easily digested, throwaway pop that lacks even the slightest hint of intricacy. And unlike that of her contemporaries, Lady Gaga's crop has an incredibly short shelf life.

That isn't to say that Gaga isn't talented. One need only watch a few moments of her acoustic rendition of "Poker Face" (however overindulgent the performance may be) to know that she bears both the pipes and the professionalism to carry herself as an artist.

Considering the fact that Larry Rudolph instantly picked her for two bonus tracks for Britney's Circus after being in the mainstream consciousness for only a year, Gaga has also proven that her song-scribing skills are qualified for the strictly Top 40 crowd. And coupled with the chops of Christina Aguilera (albeit dashed with an Orange County fake-and-bake speaking voice), this Lady's got some lasting potential in the industry.

That doesn't mean that she should be doing her own gig. I tried. And, believe me, I tried. But, after subjecting myself to numerous YouTube interviews and performances, I found myself firmly pitted against the Haus of Gaga.

"Just Dance" deserves the number one spot on the Billboard 200 Chart, though it's about a year too late for me to ride the wave. Maybe I'm just being bitter, but nothing boils my blood more than a boasty musical recommendation from a friend about this "new song" they heard on the radio by this weird Gaga chick. She's not weird-she's just a collective of the things I've enjoyed over the past years shoved directly in the mainstream's face.

(You know what? I decided to quickly rewatch the acoustic set of "Poker Face." Yes, she sang it, but 2 minutes, 50 seconds into the song, I become too revolted by her performance antics to classify this as a good time.)

I realize now that I really don't care for Lady Gaga, the entertainer. She should continue writing for other artists, but this Gaga gig has simply got to go.