What happens to all pop stars when stardom is no longer enough? They ascend. They evolve. They manifest destiny and breach Godhood or, at least, they try. Given enough worship, unadulterated love, and pure attention, the celebrated ones become the unforgotten. Escaping the cycle of desperate popularity and breakaway solidifying themselves in the consciousness of the entire human race. Kelly Clarkson was bored. Bored of the rigmarole of being judged by her body, bored of the push of record labels, and bored of the fleeting feeling of fluttering fans fictiously fawning over her fucking every move. So she prayed to the esoteric gods of shame, youth, and irony. Kelly and the gods conversed for years. Every morsal of information gleaned from godly communes with the universe: errant sightings of graffiti, eavesdropped snippets from the street, messages wrapped in random. Serendipitous symbolic synchronicity guided the discourse until Kel-ly Clarks-on knew what she must do. Alas, the leap from VH1’s nineteenth “Greatest Woman in Music” to Godhood required some help. And so, 10 were chosen. 10 of beauty, alacrity, and grace. 10 to embolden, strengthen, and debase. 10 new gods for good and for ill. 10 twisted virtues to birth and instill 4 of untameable grit and vigour 3 of wit tenacious and hardcore 2 of unspeakable magnificence  1 of whose birthday was his The 3 of charm, 2 of wit, and beauty. 10 of intelligence ** #random #whatwasIthinking