Monday, June 28, 2004

Save Bridget

If you're looking for further proof that Hollywood is irredeemably fucked, just step on over to Bridget Fonda's page on the IMDB and take a peek at the top half of her filmography.

Yeah, yeah, maybe her agent's a total rebo, maybe she's made some bad choices--the obligatory thankless gf in "Monkeybone," anyone?--maybe she's lost her skills...

But wait, that latter possibility is utterly im-. We are talking here about the Bridget Fonda of Singles, Single White Female, Scandal, Point of No Return, even such otherwise pathetic comic duds as It Could Happen to You and Doc Hollywood! We are talking about the actress from Jackie Brown who, whether getting high, smoking a cig, drinking a delicious vanilla protein shake, getting unsatisfyingly rear-ended by a stiff and sexually incompetent Robert DeNiro, or teasing an unstable man--"Lewis. Lewisss. Lew-hiss."--to the point of femmicide, teased out that slender, delectable thread of self-satisfied, self-indulgent malice latent in all stoner chicks. We are talking about the best actress ever.

Look around at the actresses getting steady work these days: Charlize Theron, Angelina Jolie, Kate "Please Die Soon" Hudson, Jennifer "Radio Face" Aniston, Vanity Fair's latest quickly forgotten "discovery", like Gretchen Mol and all the other whatshernames. The only thing they have more of than Bridget is fat in their lips. Harlots and hussies, each and every last one of them.

And then look at Bridget, languishing in TV movie, straight-to-DVD hell. But don't worry, Bridget--I'm coming for you. I'm coming to Hollywood soon, and I've got a plum role ready and waiting for you if you'll deign to accept it. Your HW stock will soar again, just you wait. You are my light. You are my inspiration.


Thursday, June 24, 2004

Big Dick

'Has a' or 'is a'?

Back before gmail when friendster was all the rage, I remember I used to get these patently mass solicitations to come over and hang out with Houston Bernard at his lame-ass Yahoo newsgroup. It was a very bland and rote bit of self-promotional boilerplate, but he did have the courtesy to mention his generously portioned 9 inch dick in the text. (Cut or uncut, I can't recall, but I'm sure he mentioned it). I downloaded a few Houston tunes, looked at some Houston pics, contemplated buying a Houston hat or keychain. I decided against it, of course, because this guy is about as openly rebo as a person can possibly be without getting put in a home for the terminally rebo.

I thought at the time that he was the perfect specimen to prove my thesis that electro, which was already over at the time, represented the nadir of NYC's subcultural possibilities, with all its lame-o "downtown" posturing and potty-mouthed fronting. If you didn't mind wrapping your titties in saran wrap or your package in a dirty sock and getting onstage and lip-synching in-front of a small audience predisposed to thinking saran-wrapped titties and dirty-sock beclad baskets are the apex of cool, you could be briefly, marginally famous. Perfect for bored rich girls in NYC who wanted to be a)shocking, b)popular, c)famous, but who were too lazy to a) write songs, b) sing songs, c) do anything that hadn't already been done in the early 70s. Sex in pop songs, like, obviously rools, but rhyming 'tittie' with 'clittie' and 'coochie' with 'hoochie' gets old pretty quick.

Of course, I'm totally over it and I've decided two years too late that electroclash is where it's at! Check out my new rhymes...I promise to get some audio streams up soon.

I'm gonna cum on your titties
I'm gonna cum on your pretty, little, titties
Now sit on my face let me lick that clittie
Damn girl
I said damn
that cooch as fine as hooch.

Bobo hats and keychains coming soon.


Tuesday, June 22, 2004

No More Exceptions

I'm back to what sucks. As we--all ten of us--know, bands like Nickelback really suck. Suck in a deep, dark way that hurts our hearts.

It's not just like they're bad. Millions of people listen to them and love them. That's what makes the sucking hurt. That music this machine-tooled, mass-produced, and soul-dead gets consumed and loved while there is so much good music out there is...sad. That the record companies, MTV, and radio programmers continue to get away with this scam is...sad.

That this has always been happening in some form or another is not sad; it is a fundamental paradox at the heart of pop music's tug-of-war between art and commerce. If you can't enjoy the friction, listen to opera. But that the battle between the two, at least on the airwaves, is pretty much lost is...sad.

But who can summon the will or energy to try to put the shittiness of bands like Nickelback into words? I can't. I don't have the musical vocabulary, for one thing; for another, there are simply too many shitty bands to know where to begin.

That's why I'm so thankful for this amazing audio stream. It says it all. Seriously, whoever did this should get airtime on MTV and all the major modern-rock Clear Channel affiliates, to demonstrate the findings of his experiment and to present these villains with an opportunity to apologize to the vulnerable and so ruthlessly exploited rock audience. I don't see how this is any less of a scandal than the Milli-Vanilli brouhaha fifteen or so years back. But standards and corporate accountability have slipped so far since then I doubt this marvelous expose will get the airtime it deserves.

(Thanks to the blog whose name/url I can't remember for linking to this in the first place).

More Exceptions (I Am Not Paranoid)

I get a lot of deranged letters from crackpots at work, most of which I promptly toss into the recycling bin. But, unethical as it is to post this poor, paranoid woman's rantings, it is simply too good to resist:

Dear editors,

My story isn't of paranoid--sic--but of multiple attempts to poison me. My life has come under scrutiny by various government intelligent--sic--agencies. That every step I make is known this constant surveillance has cross--sic--the line of illegal activities. The surveillance and listening devices have been placed in the house I reside in and every move and word spoken is known. All personal electronic devices have been bugged also. To include my computer the CD drive just shut down. As I was talking with a customer service representative that had me to delete--sic--a previously installed free online service. (Um, sic?) There after--sic--the computer wouldn't recognize the CD drive. My recently purchased cell phone have--sic--numerous problems that include not receiving telephone calls sometime. (Ok sic um sic, I give up sic.)

Having always been a consumer of water for years drinking up to 80 fluid ounces a day. After returning to any store more than once the water products are constantly coming up poison. To the extent adverse reactions are felt immediately. This has happen at every store I have returned too. Some of the water products are so blatant that the smell is foul. As the problem with the water is so pervasive that it is unsafe to drink any water products at any of these stores that I frequent.

The use of public bathrooms had become so severe that a constant infection would occur immediately that include a burning effect. Mostly from bathroom at hotels downtown their paper products, toilet tissue, paper towels, and hand tissues all were infected that caused a vaginal burning.

I have written Jeff Lampinski the Director of FBI Philadelphia informing him of these incidents. It is no surprise that no reply have been forth coming. I also have sent letters to Mr. William Mueller Director FBI Washington DC and Mr. Tom Ridge Director of Homeland Security.


Lady X

These crackpots, in all their lunacy, always manage to come up with shards of lovely poeticism..."coming up poison" and "a vaginal burning" would both, I feel, make excellent titles for albums or collections of poetry. I would advise lady x, however, not to seek help for her u.t.i. or yeast infection from Mr. Tom Ridge. He makes a great Director of something-or-other but a pretty lousy gynecologist.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Exceptions to the Rule

It's not all bad news. There are still some great places to go on the web to get unbiased, useful information and insightful analysis. I go to this site at least once a day, and it hasn't let me down yet.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Reach Out and Touch Himself

Is anyone looking for further proof that Andrew Sullivan's self-love knows no bounds?

Me neither.

But still. Surely he could have ooo-ed and aww-ed over this sweet little missive and kept it to himself. But no: he has to show us how he touched the lives of these young go-getters by wrapping it up in the guise of showing us how touched he himself is that they would share how touched they've been by him, with us.

And now we're touched.

EMAIL OF THE DAY II: After a couple years of trying, myself and a classmate succesfully ressurected our school newspaper...We became so attached to this paper that, for the final semester of high school, everything we did was in some way related to producing a thought-provoking weekly. As the paper expanded and became quite popular in our college town of 30,000, my co-editor/ressurector, Hannah and I shared deep intellectual discourse on local, state and national politics...The two of us taught each other alot but I am ecstatic over one thing that has come about from our friendship: we both read your blog. I turned her on to it and she now feels that there is at least one insightful conservative who is not a religious zealot. As a token of her appreciation Hannah's graduation gift to me was - yup you guessed it - a donation to in my name. My first year at college will be filled with updates and special features from the Daily Dish. I hope you'll run this letter so that people out there know that honest, intellectual and respectful discourse still exists even if it is only amongst a 17 and 18 year old. Running this letter is also a terrific plug for the importance of donating to the dish." And so it is. I haven't run a pledge drive this year because I'm unsure of how long I can keep this up, but you can help keep this blog alive by donating here.
- 4:05:26 AM

(OK, I'm not that touched.)

Friday, June 11, 2004


I love this young woman. First of all because she is hot. Second of all because her awful complexion and sour demeanor come through with stunning digital clarity despite the photo's grainy, b+w low-resolution. Third of all because her name is Blandford.

I love her!

Thursday, June 10, 2004

Not So Fresh Feeling

I promise to stick it to the patriarchs and phallocrats of the world soon; I do know that Bush and his cronies pose a greater threat to the world than The Vagina Monologues' Eve Ensler and the--at least somewhat--worthy 'off our backs' crowd. But besides Ann Coulter, can you think of a single national pseudo-celebrity whose work is more deserving of death by bonfire than Eve Ensler's? The pied piper of Hollywood's amateur feminist set, the kind of person who writes a play composed of ten monologues about the humiliation, pain, violence, and degradation inherent in all heterosexual sex and thinks she is "empowering" women; an idiot with a ridiculous and unflatteringly witchy Louise Brooks/Little Lulu hairdo who spends a good chunk of her time onstage simulating really unappetizing and crazed-simian orgasms; someone dumb enough to start an organization whose mission it is to end "all violence against all women and girls," more or less for all time when what her charity actually accomplishes is making middle-aged lesbos more smug in their politics, middle-aged heterosexual liberal ladies more comfortable saying the word "vagina" but less comfortable actually using theirs, and making Eve Ensler herself ever richer and ever more famous, despite being a second-rate performance artist and having a fourth-rate mind.

They should make little rotund Eve Ensler wind-up dolls that squeak when you crank 'em: "Rape! Violence! Vagina! Rape! Violence! Vagina!" I know I'm just a boy but real feminists must silence this woman if feminism hopes to hold onto what shreds remain of its credibility. Because "V-Day" is about the worst appropriation of feminist rhetoric since the music industry started buying stock in "Girl Power."

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Thank Goddess

I don't claim this ridiculous piece of archaic, p.c. crap is really indicative of anything in particular. I don't think people like this pose any real threat to anyone but themselves. This little sample of overeducated, hypersensitive-feminist insularity is evidence of nothing but the...hypersensitivity and insularity of a small group of--probably very young--feminists.

But, really, come the fuck on!

"Dear oob and Constance Reeder: I was pleased to see that you had an intelligent article about 'The L Word,' and I was even more pleased that I completely agree with your take on it. However, I was greatly disappointed with your use of the word "lame," along with many other "L" words to describe how horrible the show is. I was surprised to see "lame" being used in such a negative way, since I had read your past two issues devoted to Women with Disabilities and know that you understand why "lame" is so offensive and problematic when used."

Editors' note:

"You are absolutely right in everything you said. We should never have used the word--it was included by error. We were brainstorming negative words beginning with the letter L when it came up, but we immediately agreed that it was ableist and offensive and we thought it had been deleted. Unfortunately, it was missed in proof-reading. It was in no way the fault of responsibility of the author of the article.

"Please accept our heartfelt apology for this offensive and hurtful error, and thank you for taking the time to point it out. You are right that we should have known better and, in fact, we did know better, but we erred in such a way that we failed to live up to our own standards."

--the off our backs collective

What? Where's her free lifetime subscription to Off Our Backs? This collective is obviously far too easy on itself. It is a relief to know that they "immediately" agreed it was offensive, though; and that, "in fact," they did "know better." For Goddess' sake, what were they thinking?

This was taken from the letters section of the May-June issue of Off Our Backs.

Monday, June 07, 2004

I Am No Bobo

Ever since David Brooks landed his cushy op-ed position at the Times, he has consistently produced trashy, logical-fallacy loaded fodder for critics of the op-ed form. His June 1st column was really no better or worse than the rest, and for that reason makes as good a target as any. His topic was the recent National Journal-sponsored ranking of the Bush administration's economic policy record. The Bush team was graded on a very scientific 'A+' to "F" scale, and received a handful of low Bs and a C- (the latter for "long term fiscal policy").

Having set this up, Brooks commences with:

"I thought it might be interesting to see what the Bush people themselves thought of their marks, so I brought The National Journal into the White House and asked a few senior officials to respond.

"Their first answer, not surprisingly, is that you have to understand the reality that confronted them when they took office in 2001. Business leaders were calling in to say that economic activity was falling off a cliff. The dot-com bubble was over, manufacturing was getting a hit..."

Et cetera. Et cetera. Can you spot the inanities in these paragraphs? First off, he "thought it might be interesting"? So he just bumbled on over to the White House to get their word on it. Where's the harm. "Their first answer, not surprisingly, is that you have to understand..." Is he joking? That has to be one of the most devious and yet most poorly constructed sentences I've ever witnessed in a major publication. "You have to understand" is not an answer to a question; it is a prelude to an excuse and a transparent evasion of the question. Surely, being the good Bobo that he is, Brooks is well-educated enough to note that distinction? But rather than interpret the excuse/apology, Brooks allows this unnamed "senior official" to run on and on, effectively giving Bush's folks free airtime..on the op-ed page, the place where, you know, this stuff is supposed to be--whether positively or negatively--interpreted, analysed, explained.

But then, where would Brooks be without his bumbling, faux-naif style? It allows him to pose as a fuzzy, socially moderate political centrist while selling a fundamentally conservative vision of America to upscale liberals, who yuk it up over his nasty and politically motivated (mis)characterizations of them in his bestselling works of "comic sociology," oblivious to the harm in it because, as Brooks is so quick to point out, he is one of them too! He lives in a blue state! He spends a lot of money on clothes! He's a flaming careerist who's never mowed his own lawn and probably wouldn't know how to even if he wanted to! He's just like us Bobos! Aren't we Northeasterners and West-Coasters total frauds? Howsabout next election we abstain and let the real Americans in the flyover region decide who gets to rule the country! I mean, because they're all so real and authentic and they wouldn't spend more than twenty dollars on dinner if you put a gun to their head.

Not because Brooks is secretly an arch-conservative or anything, oh no.

For more evidence on Brooks (half-conscious? fully conscious?) duplicity and mendacity, simply compare his pre-Times Weekly Standard articles with his work for the Times and his books. You get a nice sliding scale from fuzzy moderate to economic arch-conservative, all conveniently tailored to each formats' target audience.