Imagine, if you will, a parallel universe where a pretty blonde pop star can actually carry a tune, writes her own songs, and frets over artistic integrity. In this universe, when her record company demands more hits, she tells them to shove it and starts her own label. There's no making out with Madonna, no messy divorce, no custody battle, no 5150. Instead there's bankable talent and a credible, long-arc career.
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