Archive

Archive for the ‘dress for success’ Category

Non Apologia. . ..

October 10, 2009 Leave a comment

In the October 16 issue of Entertainment Weekly, there appears a short article in which Tyler Perry reveals he was the victim of extreme abuse as a child. Child molestation and its corollary abuses are criminal and repugnant on any level, to anyone. I hardly lack the compassion to not feel this was a terrible thing. However he and fellow spotlight whore, Oprah Winfrey are set to profit from this muy pronto by wide release of Winfrey’s latest cinematic cash cow.* I’m sure some of the take will go to charities they support. Anyone know how much? Odd they are so circumspect in that arena. Sweet restraint. If only they’d do it everywhere else.

I don’t like those two people. They exploit their pain in the name of helping others. Perry has been very successful wearing a dress & making movies of it. We all know what Oprah does. Though frankly, I’m not sure. She has a magazine which features her on the cover. Every issue. Excessive at best, egoistic certainly. Does she even know O is the title of a major erotic novel. She’s obviously aware it’s the Periodic Table symbol for oxygen, as she’s full of hot air. Regardless, Winfrey was also famously the victim of family horrors. Who knew it could be so profitable? Repeatedly. I’m guessing they did, every chance they got. It separates them from me, I know that for sure.

One has to question the motives of tossing this information out into the media, like chum to sharks. Does it help the sadly large numbers of others who have suffered and currently are suffering? Many of them in silence. Is it going to give the courage to some boy to put on a female family member’s clothing & upload it onto You Tube—in hopes he’ll hit number one, as opposed to being hit by someone. Most likely it will make him or her a target to a larger circle of creeps. Or worse. We’ll have another Tyler Perry. There will of course, never be another Oprah. Thank God & Steadman for that-amen.

They are not the only people to regurgitate their traumatic lives. MacKenzie Phillips just wrote a book and went on some shows to talk about her incestuous episodes with her father, John Phillips aka Papa John of The Mamas & the Papas, a successful folk-rock group in the Sixties. Papa John—not to be confused with the pizza magnate, though there is an awful joke there, I’ll skip it, was known to get doped up & was quite the ladies man. Apparently ( no pun-OK it is ) he had no governor on which lady, all were fair game. Maybe Mac will have a Lifetime movie. I’m guessing Valerie Bertinelli won’t be in it.

So, I’m sorry Tyler, I had no idea you were so fucked up. Listening to you speak, reading about your work, seeing how you want to own an island—I never guessed. But hey Oprah—try featuring something else on the cover of O magazine other than your fat face. You don’t see Malcolm Forbes on the cover of Forbes —what? he’s dead, machts nichts schnickelfritz, you think I don’t suspect you have a clause stating O runs your mug until the end of the universe?

And oh yeah, I was abused. But I don’t wear a mu mu for money in bad flicks. And I wouldn’t. I might use it to dodge a war. But hey, I ain’t stoopit.

* I know the title – I’m not helping them, even with my 3 readers

Correction

September 19, 2009 Leave a comment

We’re sorry, the following title as it appears – I CAN DO BAD ALL BY MYSELF – is a typo. It is actually listed with the Screenwriters Guild and IMDb as – I CAN DO BAD MOVIES ALL BY MYSELF. QED

In a related story, all the resale & thrift shops in Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Van Nuys & Manhattan are out of womens size 23 clothing. Donations are needed. Thank you.

Bust A Cap in Yo Ass -The Sequel

August 16, 2009 Leave a comment

Yeah I really can’t help myself. In that way I have total empathy with the individuals I’d like to excoriate. That would be whoever approved and subsequently permits major league baseball players to wear those lame, dumb ass hip hop style caps on the field. Absolutely zero excuse for players who adopt the style either. It’s officially the New Era 5950 cap, more like New Error. This is not the original model 5950, but a pandering perversion of it. Let me think why…oh, yeah M O N E Y!

Here’s a few reasons why they shouldn’t be allowed.

1. They make you look retarded

2. They come from a thug sub-culture, one that embraces violence toward women, police & lately—animals. . ..

3. Did I mention they look fucking retarded? ( so much for a pretense of civility )

Oh I wouldn’t want to dictate how anybody should dress themselves. That is, if they are in fact doing so. Much of this sub-culture gets off on sticking it to the man. The man, who is authority, doesn’t give a shit. The man is making money off you fools. The roots ( oops ) of this styling comes from poverty. Clothing is passed down from older brothers ( oops again ) and often larger than the recipient is. Though a few boys ( oh stop!) apparently got a sister’s, maybe aunt’s? clothes ( see Tyler Perry ). So, the hat resting on ears look is organic—still looks, you know what. The pants falling off thing from a decade ago? same deal. Very tasteful choice. Yet fitting ( ! ) if you extend the image, downward.

When I was a young teaching assistant, the trend among some kids was to wear their belts unbuckled & dangling. Now what does that most evoke? here’s a clue —it’s not the result of a big meal in the cafeteria. Some actors started using their mouth to emote non-verbally. If you aren’t sure what a lolling tongue suggests, go ask Mick Jagger. Michael Jordan was a flagrant tongue abuser on the court. Maybe I’m just envious. When I played in Little League, I was ridiculed for making faces while I pitched.* It’s all pretty puerile, if not febrile. Definitely infantile. Ile ( sic ), er um I’ll say. . ..

The worst part is the fat white dummies who have adopted this look too. What man are they sticking it to? oh yeah, me. Just like wearing gold chains, while playing baseball, you look stupid ( cough—gay ). Those grotesque chin beards are a whole other story. The cast of Moby Dick phoned, they want them back. Yes, stupid. But they are also repulsive. Again, it’s athletes aping ugly musicians. You kids need a designer. Hmmm hold on, most of them are… OK, just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re only young & dumb once. But don’t try to tell me it’s ironic. Unless the irony is, you think it’s attractive. Now pull up your pants.

* I had a .786 won-lost percentage. Of course in Little League that’s meh

Bust A Cap

March 3, 2009 Leave a comment

Both the Major League Baseball teams from NYC are catching heat. Steroids? no. The stadiums? no, not this week. It’s patches. Patches? yes.

Let’s get the Mets out of the way first. The myopic and short-sighted, jockocracy, in their 12 year old boy way of using broad strokes, has roundly ridiculed the Mets new ballpark patch. They claim it looks ” just like ” the Domino’s Pizza box logo. Um, sure it is a 4 sided geometric shape, canted at about a 60º angle. But a moron can see the Met patch is the shape of a baseball game ticket, and elegantly simple in both color scheme ( not the Domino colors, for sure ) and graphics. Likely this eludes what passes for ” observant ” by jock sniffers. Maybe they were hoping for a patch in the shape of the new stadium? No, because, the Yankees did do something like that—a patch which appears on the back of their 2009 cap.

A cap, which other than the new Yankee Stadium commemorative, looks like every @#%&*! NYY cap since about 1929. Except for the one thing, the critics are too scared to complain about. ( BTW the Yankee patch also looks just fine. It is in the shape of the famous Yankee RF frieze. Ooooooh, but it’s on the back. Give me a fucking break. ) That thing would be what the official cap shape has devolved into over the last few seasons. The NewEra company manufactures most of MLB’s wear, the game cap style is the model 5950. It has adopted the hip-hop thug look. The one which most resembles a tin pot, once styled by Johnny Appleseed. A certain kind of player enjoys an oversized look & uncurved brim on their dome. Hey, they’re the pros. Lame look, though.

Why aholes with the common sense of a slow 2 year old, can literally reshape what was developed to be functional headwear for athletes who once played in the sun for 3 hours, is foolish. Most of them also wear jewelry and necklaces while playing now. It’s astonishing their accessorizing, would’ve not only gotten baseball players from my era extra wind sprints, after practice, but asskicked by the football players. And the chess club.

Look, if a segment of the population thinks they are sticking it to the man by wearing ballcaps sideways, fine. Their fashion sense, born of too large hand me downs from their big brothers ( except for Tyler Perry—he got his from his sister ), embracing their tight clothing budgets. But what are baseball players, who all make at least 350K USD ( upwards to 25+ million ) rebelling against? possibly bad patches! Manny Ramirez who is still unsigned as of this post, might actually be wearing his pajamas everyday this season, instead of on the field. You used to see baseball socks, now these jags have pants tailored to drape over the back heel of their cleats. It really looks stupid. Also, I guess it’s for guys like Manny who rarely actually do more than stroll. Maybe I was wrong about the mispronunciation of the word athlete. These guys are ath-uh-leets; a hole ( sic ) new breed.

AS for Manny, he’s still not feeling the love of a decent contract offer. He started out by stating just after the 2008 season ended— ” gas is up, and so am I. . ..” Did anyone point out to him, the price of gasoline had dropped? A lot. Or that there was a major economic recession? I’m not worried about Manny’s wallet, his agent is Scott Boras. Everybody in baseball hates him. Yet he still gets most of his players amazing contracts. Boras is concerned about deflation dollars in 2010. Manny has always wanted to skip Spring Training. Stay tuned LA. [ Manny has now signed for 2K9 Dodger $]

The sports commentators need to learn to target the real problems like Bud Selig not Alex Rodriguez. Or the ruination of on field utilitarian clothing for fashion statements ( and illiterate ones at that )! No, they are too chicken shit to bite the hand that feeds them. They may laugh up their sleeves at patches which look like fast food logos to their ill-trained eyes. But slap some free pizzas down and they’ll be there faster than you can say it.

It. . ..

Fantasy Islands

February 28, 2009 4 comments

Dateline: Moronia

The no talent referred to in the previous post has announced he’s buying an island. This is purportedly to celebrate his 40th birthday. And the fact that there are a lot of stupid people spending their money on his crap movies. I think he just wants a place where he can lounge around in a mumu and not have to bother about the man part of his wardrobe. He’s not that rich, saving is saving, once you have a whole island to support.

My sources have located his realtor*, here is his dream list of islands:

1. Fantasy Island

2. Treasure Island

3. Coney Island

4. Gilligan’s Island

5. Long Island

IMO he all ready lives on number 1.

There was a time Martin Lawrence was the premiere idiot among black entertainers. After all, directing traffic in your underwear & doing the most illiterate monologue ever on live TV ( Saturday Night Live ), pretty much locked him in for the 90s. But the planet sized ego, only matched by the inverse size of Tyler Perry’s talent, gives him the lead in the 21st century. Athletes don’t count, they have too unfair an advantage—nobody expects them to be smart. They are legion and so competitive, it’s difficult to choose one; that list changes on a daily basis. With entertainers ( sic ) one needs to evaluate a body of work. In this case, the body is a male, wrapped in mama’s clothing & Holly Woodlawn make up.

Let’s get one thing totally straight. I do envy people who can make money doing what they want to do in life. However, I can’t respect it when the method employed is such bullshit. Historically, when plays & acting were evolving, the rôles of women characters were portrayed by men. This is because along with not bathing, Europeans in the Middle Ages and on into the Elizabethan period, believed any woman who’d be in the show business was a whore. [ The Greeks who started staged performances, were another bowl of grapes. Too much for this post to handle.] Typically, they were correct, a girl’s got to eat and pay for frilly things too, ya’ll. Today, it’s somewhat the same, though it’s— if you are a man dressing as a woman for a payday, you are a whore. Hack. Whore. OK, a whore-hack. Never to be confused with a Horshack. That’s a whole other thing. Which is not a poorly constructed brothel in Deadwood. Though it could’ve been.

Oh sure, don’t be telling me the clown wrote the part( s ), so it’s his art. I grasp the process and the rationale. There’s a word for it though, let me think—oh yeah, greedy whore. There’s not one black actress alive who could play any of his lameass bitches better than he could? Oprah would’ve done it for free. OK maybe not free—but scale for sure. Too bad the woman who played Aunt Esther isn’t still with us. CCH Pounder could’ve knocked it out of the park, but she has too much integrity to do this kind of dreck. Isn’t he basing the mannerisms and traits on a real woman( or real women )? You know, maybe being so bitter ( albeit accurate ) I’ve been blind. Maybe his characters are drawn from ugly black transvestites! it would explain the broad, ham-handed strokes. Damn! I owe him an apology.

So, I’d like to solicit contributions. Send as much money as you can to Tyler Perry, so he can buy his island asap. Then we can vote him off this island and onto his own. I hear Alcatraz Island is lovely this time of year. Also affordable. Just don’t mention, it’s no longer an active penitentiary, so the male population is currently zero. All is fair in love and whore. And real estate.

_______________________________________________________________________

* speaking of pretentious—when did the second pronunciation of the word realtor become dominant? It’s a schwa sound you dorks. Now it sounds more like predator. Rhymes with whore now too. Excellent

Homeless Box Office

February 23, 2009 Leave a comment

Little did I know when I woke up today, that a cross dressing no talent hump would save my life. According to him, this clown was once reduced to living in his car or some phoney Hollwood bullshit back story. He kept praying to the Lord, and Taylor ( not Tyler ) apparently. Because one day, while dumpster diving for dinner, there amidst the Mickey D boxes & wrappers, he found a size 26 floral housedress.

The rest is dreck history. The Lord obviously sending the message, if you all ready believe in me and that hasn’t worked out, the next stage is dress like a woman and make movies. Larry King is too stupid to ask why this ahole keeps at least one fine big black woman out of work, it’s their problem, huh. Maybe they’ll find a Sumo diaper, move to Japan and make it there. In a related story, Queen Latifah and Jennifer Hudson are duking it out for the lead in a biopic— Tyler Perry: Drag Yo Ass.

My antipathy towards drag flicks—not drag racing Biffaside, I do have him to thank. As soon as I am faced with my own eventual homelessness, I will not make my first stop a store to shoplift an air freshener for my car. I will go to Goodwill and get me a dress, sensible shoes, wig hat and a theatrical agent. Hedging my bets, I’ll drop by Sears and pick up a large Frigidaire box. I’ll probably never make a movie in a dress—just a guess.

I held an Oscar once—I don’t know about now—but 20 years ago, those boys were heavy. They should weigh even heavier on the consciences of the schmucks who didn’t vote for Mickey Rourke. In a year where they got almost everything else right, why? Anyone with a brain knows why. I never had a shot out there. But sometimes I’m glad I never did. I bet my old friend with the Oscar voted for Mickey though—that’s because the friend was a guy from Philadelphia. Ben Franklin & the Stallones would’ve given it to Mr. Rourke for sure. They’d know the difference between merely good acting and a huge heart.

AND since this is a bit random, I’d like to state once again ( and no doubt in a future post ) nothing says going backwards like boxing.* Nothing screams it louder than women boxing. Those idiots call boxing the ” sweet science “. Does the inclusion of women make it the sweeter science? Or maybe just butch-er. There’s a good chance most of them have no idea what science is—the last time beating people might’ve been considered scientific was just before the Paleolithic era.

Maybe I didn’t wake up at all and this is 1809. No wonder my fucking ISP is so slow!

_____________________________________

* Mickey Rourke was a professional boxer before his acting career & for a period of time, during which he left acting. So, I am open minded. Any guy who names a chihuahua after the Norse god of malevolent mischief, is OK with me.

There’s November Like November. . ..

October 2, 2008 Leave a comment

Presidential TV debates are not really debates. They are more like those Apple v. Windows commercials. Only without the dude from the late great ED show. It’s speechifying, packaged oratorial ping pong, with enough spin to make Sandy Koufax green with envy.

So, imagine my opinion of Vice Presidential debates. They are showcases for the stand-ins. The shadow pols. Them who would be veep. They are bullshit. Certainly not cool enough to preempt 30 ROCK. Even if Sarah Palin & Tina Fey are total sisters in MILFness.

OK here’s what I want them to talk about. Joe Biden can explain his plagiarized speech from whenever that was, a decade ago. AND Palin can tell us all about why teen pregnancy in Alaska is God’s will. Riveting. In much the same way, actual riveting would be, with admittedly not the same decibels, but likely more grating.

The one thing I am excited about is, there is finally an American candidate for an executive office who won’t be togged out in a stupid suit & tie. Or will she? I don’t know. Wouldn’t put it past some ahole to tell her she’d look more Presidential. Wanna bet somebody floated the idea?

I nominally worked for a few campaigns in my misguided youth. NO happy endings there. Unless you count The Oval Office escapade with the blue dress. The one thing I took from my Presidential campaign trail experiences was I learned how to use a coffeemaker. A skill, I continue to employ, so it was worth something after all!

I can’t personally run for office. Well, I can run. But my dodgy ( lol ) past would be exposed immediately and that would be that for the once & future king. I might have a shot at Pope. If a former Hitlerjugend can make it, the field is wide open. Odd how they send up smoke to announce a new Pope. Hmmmm wonder if he had a flashback.

Anyone with the urge to get elected is suspect from my POV. It’s rife with deals within deals. Maybe I could get longer than a week on the stump, considering how they seem to miss vital details. Intriguing how the home team often misses them, leaving the loyal opposition to amazingly find out Mayoral hopeful John Doughboy, was once in a cult that dressed as nuns and ate human flesh. It was only that one time at Cannibal Camp, but once in this case. . ..

Anyone compos mentis over the age of seven, who thinks the President is more than a spokesmodel, needs to read a book. Doesn’t matter which book, just try one. Then take a look between the lines. See it? no? go on, keep looking. You will.

In related news. . . Yankee Stadium will be razed soon and next season there will be a new ballpark in the South Bronx, my old hometown. My biggest memory of the place is going there for the first time and as we walked across River Avenue, my dad said- ‘see that big building over there? that’s the Bronx Borough Court House. I got in trouble as a kid and had to go there once. Don’t let that happen to you.’

I’m pleased to say, I’ve yet to set foot in there. Though, you never know. Meanwhile, I can’t wait to see who will be President, Apple or Windows. Either way, I’ll still have this @#%&*! dial up and phone lines installed by the CSA. Now there was a president, Jefferson Davis. I’d give anything to know what he’d say about the 2008 Election. I’d bump 30 Rock for that, and I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie y’all!

Chicks Dig the Lung Ball!

February 26, 2008 2 comments

If only we could go back to the Golden Age of Baseball, when the athletes were as pure as the media( jk.) Make that the Old Gold Age. Say what you will about Roger Clemens or Barry Bonds, you won’t see them lighting up in the dugout! Jim Leyland, manager of your Detroit Tigers, might, but hey, he’s grandfathered in and a winner.

Back before all those do-gooder hippies & activists showed up, professional athletes could only

( provided they were famous enough ) supplement their then low seasonal pay, via lucrative endorsement deals. Car, beer & cigarettes were the troika and no lesser stars than Hall of Famers Babe Ruth & Ted Williams, were once at the top of the endorsement heap. Many fondly recall the Reggie Bar, Reggie Jackson’s validation of his superstar stature in the 1970’s. Though as a candy, it’s more remembered as a missile, rather than a taste treat. Free agency has aided that fiscal shortfall for current ballplayers. No more off season jobs pumping gas, working in a coal mine or being a deputy sheriff. Unless you’re Shaquille O’Neal: the NBA legend doesn’t need the money, he just needs the law re-enforcement.

Smokeless tobacco, the addiction formerly known as chewing tobacco (wow! they can spin anything—how about coming up with Cancer-less tobacco?), is still used primarily by baseball players ( and select NASCAR drivers.) There has been a concerted effort in the last few years to educate especially young players regarding the risks of mouth cancer, for that little bit of metastasis between cheek & gum. I was fond of Jim Bouton’s ( former Yankees pitcher & author )Big League Chew myself, a pouch of shredded bubblegum. You could blow bubbles with your mouth, and not with that hole in your larynx like Uncle Joe Bob.

AND never a bit of controversy with guys like Richie, er, Dick Allen ( our poster boy below ) back then either. OK, maybe he’s a poor example. So, that’s where the Phils got the idea for candy apple pinstripes! Still Spring Training is here and baseball is back on the field & out of Congress ( for the moment ). Can anybody say ‘Play Ball!’ Where’s my effin’ brewsky dammit! I mean CrackerJack. . ..

mlb2k8.jpg

*The U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Hibbert has determined juggling while smoking, may be dangerous to your health.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

The above is for educational and entertainment purposes only. Photo and cover art copy are sole Copyrights of Time Warner Inc. None of the above commentary or opinions are endorsed by Time Warner Inc. No monies were accrued by the author for this work entitled Chicks Dig the Lung Ball ©2008 Jukeofurl Prod.

Infant Item

January 25, 2008 1 comment

Rumor has it the Writers Guild is nearing a contract. This will mean new scripts and/or those on hold, will be available for projects all across the media. Yippie. And I mean it.

I have some things I don’t grasp about writing, specifically for television(teleplays). It’s centered around a pedestrian plot device & female foot wear. Any veteran viewer will know of what I speak, as soon as I get to it.

SCRUBS, a much better than average hospital situation comedy, is in it’s final season. They’ve had a roller coaster ride. Every season renewal was doubtful, though critically acclaimed. One of the young leads, Zach Braff, has launched a independent film career during his tenure. But ratings were always less than what NBC had in mind. Still SCRUBS persevered for seven seasons. Can you say syndication bucks? They sure can.

Here’s why I cite them. Seems as if every freakin’ character on the show has had a baby, a second baby, wants a baby or just likes to talk about babies ( creepy ). Historically in TV Land, in the land of the bland, the one note man is King, that TV Land; a baby( or theoretically cute young child ) is injected into a show, in hopes of boosting sinking ratings. Once upon a time, some network suit made that suggestion ‘ take one baby, just add poop jokes ‘(or stole it, more than likely from a kid in the mailroom) and it worked. So, for the last 50 years, it’s the go to fix. The phrase Jump the Shark, is more like it. Does anybody remember Cousin Oliver?

My best guess is the SCRUBS people are just having a laugh up their scrubs sleeves. Meanwhile, the writing is still funny & occasionally poignant. The baby shit however. . . not so much. And yet, I wondered, what larger scenarios might become more popular, by adding a baby.

OK I bet you thought this right away too! The White House. Mr. & Mrs. Bush could get the married twin ( one is married right? I’m a writer dammit, poetic license ) and have her live there pregnant and give birth ( ideally in the Oval Office ), for the final year of Bushocracy. Wackiness ensues at press conferences and State dinners. Grandpa George was a wild card at them—imagine the grandkid! I smell a hit. Possibly something else. . ..

By extension then, add a baby to the Iraqui War. Have the whole Armed Forces adopt one. Humanizing, sentimental and distracting. Can’t miss. There can be new WMD jokes ( make up your own words, it will be easy ), scenes of the baby being fed during house to house searches, first steps ( and missteps, booboos!), first words: I’m guessing they will be: fire my !@#%* agent! Let’s call it: Shock and Awwww.

Apologies to Jonathan Swift’s Modest Proposal aside, I could go on and on. Luckily for everyone, I am having an episode of dropsy. So, just one more pitch. It could get rough here, you might want to stop reading. Hey! I warned you. How about for special downs during the Super Bowl, instead of a football. . .. Just kidding. They don’t need bigger ratings. Maybe just get the kid drunk on Bud, put it behind the wheel of a Dodge RAM. If they can get it to drive to an Army recruiter? BOOM! TV gold.

Now, for the footwear. I don’t like high heels. So, from my POV, no occasion, in any room. . . calls for a woman to wear them. Yeah, yeah I know what they do. Who cares. They can’t be fun to walk in or really do anything upright; most women would likely agree on that point, right after attending to their blisters. But when I see female characters who are purportedly police or FBI or meter maids running down a bad guy wearing stilettos, my brain blisters. You can’t convince me a woman smart enough to be a doctor or a nurse is working those 20 hour shifts in spikes. Who has final script approval? Hugh Hefner? Where are those femi-nazis when you need them? It’s just dumbass. Somebody needs to er, step in and put their foot down.

Though, if there was a show with a baby cop in a pair of sky high heels! Wow. I think I’d watch. If the writing is good, naturally.

Thanks, but no thanks

November 22, 2007 Leave a comment

It’s good to change things up. So, in honor of Thanksgiving, the second major US holiday in a 10 day period this year! I will do just that. Time to pick on another medium. Magazines.

There are so many awful mags to choose from and though they are often difficult to differentiate, I have one in my sights. Before I do, I’d just like to report, albeit maybe 7 years after the fact, on magazine covers. You can walk into almost any library in America now and see displayed on its shelves, lots o’ skin. The kind of pics, when I was a kid, your dad had hidden in the garage underneath Popular Mechanics. To be fair, and probably due to all that hard work of Gloria Steinem & her feminists in the 70’s, now it’s both female and male skin.

One of the pioneer men’s mags still extant, is ESQUIRE. They had scantily clad ( a dated, yet apt phrase, if I ever saw one ) women & illustrations by a guy named Vargas. Appreciating his work was a rite of passage for boys in that era. This was pre-Playboy. Can you imagine! if not the Dark Ages, it certainly was not so nakedly out in the light. Make that the spotlight. It’s that selfsame ESQUIRE I am about to rip a new one.

Now, in the 21st century, ESQUIRE is a compendium for all that is wrong with humans. They are a publication aimed at upscale men, or wannabes, in the 21-49 demographic. Features are always about how to dress, dine, drink, drive, drives ( sex ) and yes, even die. ESQUIRE never met a word beginning with the letter D it couldn’t publish 2000 words on it’s slick, pretentious pages.

ESQUIRE magazine at it’s inception was for men who are heterosexual. It ostensibly still is, unlike contemporary GENTLEMAN’s QUARTERLY ( GQ ), which is umm, metrosexual. . .. While being told black wingtips is the go to shoe for the serious grown up man on a monthly basis, is Hitler-like enough to make me bristle, the ads are truly something special. Somebody please explain to me what demo guy considers this a desirable kind of scenario? Five men, one woman? This is a family kinda blog, so I won’t use the word that scene brings to mind. It’s routine for ads in ESQUIRE and GQ though. In the name of full disclosure, I’m forced to admit, if the bashes I went to as a young dude are any measure, that disturbing ratio is about right! Maybe I’m just having difficulty accepting reality. Again.

What I really want to address ( undress? dress? redress? ) are the full page ads, sometimes a 2 pager, with no women to get in the way of good old homoeroticism. They often depict a naked or scantily clad male, surrounded by a male model mix of adoring and diffident chums. Oh boy! ( pardon the expression ) now there’s a party. Why wasn’t I invited? OK, I’m not good looking enough. But still! In the minds of twisted advertising people, they calculate a woman friend will open ESQUIRE and imagine her male companion in this setting, immediately run to Barney’s in Manhattan and do a Pretty Woman level shopping spree/music video montage for him. Deep in their fashion slave hearts, all the hot chicks wanna be Richard Gere ( the pre-white hair version, natch ).

If you got this far ( cough ), you’re likely puzzled. Why does this guy even know this stuff? Research, and I just like magazines. Also, I got it at the library; I sure wouldn’t pay for it. Hey, I really wanted to write how there are probably more than a few people out there who think the Pilgrims were racists because no black people were invited to the first Thanksgiving. No fear, things changed over the next 300 years. Slavers apparently being the 1660’s analog to the bussing of the 1960’s. Now we are all here and we all have so much to be thankful for annually, on the third Thursday of November. Me? I’m thankful I don’t own , or ever will own, a pair of black or any other color wingtips. That’s just shoe-ist not racist.

So much more to say, so much antipathy for typing & filing via dialup. Yet, I am compelled to add, is there anything more heartwarming than hearing barely articulate morons call in sports talk radio on Thanksgiving and share their golden memories of boxing? I am thankful for the off switch. I bet all of them were wearing boxer shorts & black wingtips too. . ..