Guess who’s not going to be in the next Kevin Costner movie? As if she could care. Like a virgin one minute, like a Marilyn the next, like a Brassaï floozy the next, she is catholic in her excesses and unrepentant in her provocations. But if Madonna didn’t exist, who would have invented her? Marie Osmond? Or imagine if Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone had shortened her name to…Veronica. Yikes! Justify my love, Jughead. No, Madonna has made herself the mirrored ball of pop culture, reflecting and fracturing our obsessions with power, sex and fame. But is she really beautiful? Of course she’s beautiful. That comes with the territory, with the power. “It’s a great feeling to be powerful,” she once said. “I think that’s just the quest of every human being: power.” Power corrupts, you say? Something Oscar Wilde said argues otherwise: “Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others.” In this case it’s the curious attractiveness of Madonna‘s many redeeming vices. She can grab her crotch and still sing Sondheim; she can swing with Warren Beatty, flirt with Sandra Bernhard and yet say that her one great love was Sean Penn. She can do all wrong and still stay at the top. She has no shame. And the whole world can’t stop watching. Neat, eh?