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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

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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

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. . ..