P2W Purity Watch: Imus + Girls Gone Wild

It seems to me lately that this country is taking a decided swing toward decorum and let me be the first to say I am happy as a lark. People are finally standing up against the insidious racism and misogyny that permeates pop culture. The chickens are coming home to roost for some people and it has been a long time coming.

For instance, there is Don Imus, the original "shock jock". I must confess I've never listened to his show for more than 4.5 seconds; his voice grates on my nerves and his content is painful to absorb. However, I have heard enough of what he says (mostly via the Howard Stern terrestrial radio show) to know that he is self-serving and nasty. Here is a man who bullied many in the press and in Washington to believe that they lacked credibility if they wouldn't face him as a target in his studio. This man said hateful things and accused people who spoke out against him as lacking a sense of humor.

Well, count me in the group that lacks a sense of humor. Frankly, I'm tired of the barrage of negative language toward African-Americans and women. I've witnessed racism and sexism and tried to let it pass through me. But I can't help absorbing some of it as if I were a filter feeder; hateful flecks of negativity have really built up in me against my will. I'm not going to put up with it anymore.

At first I was alarmed that Imus lost his job over something he said. I believed that it was much ado about nothing. I worried about our First Amendment Rights. I also thought the coach of the Rutgers team should have encouraged the girls to let it go and move on. Why direct any energy toward anything that man says? I discovered, after reading Newsweek, that that indeed was the coach's original advice, but the girls couldn't move past it. They kept wondering, "Why us?" Why them indeed. It was a random act of sexism and racism in the name of a quip. There was no reason to single out this team for punishment. But, when there are no consequences, there are no reasons not to pick off everyone who passess through the sights of your sniper rifle of humor, right?

And then there's the Girls Gone Wild guy, Joe Francis. I'll have you know that I felt a sense of glee when I heard he was in trouble. As a mother of two girls, I shudder at what effect this man's product would have on my daughters. There seemed to be no one crying out against him for a long time. I remember the first time I saw an ad for one of his videos. I felt my insides crumple as I saw girls who were either coaxed or who happily obliged to show their bodies off for a guy with a camera. But what can you do? These women were of age...or they seemed to be.
Now according to Yahoo!, Joe Francis has been sued for some 70 million dollars by girls who were filmed by him when they were underage. He claims they lied about their ages and threw a hissy fit when they were trying to settle matters, flinging obscenities at them. He was held in contempt and sentenced to 35 days in jail. According to the story:

"His attorney, Jan Handzlik, said being in jail had changed his client.

'He is a different man. Undoubtedly he is a different man,' he said."

Let's hope both these men are are different men as a result of the recent turn of events in their lives. Maybe, as is already underway in the Imus camp, these men will speak out against racism and mysogyny, under the "Only Nixon could go to China," school of thought. I think Imus will have a better chance of success. So far, he is the only one of the two not to act up after the tide turned against him. Also, he has influence over a large number of people who participate in backstage racism, or that kind of racism that can flourish when white people are hanging out with white people. I have hopes that Imus could be a voice for change, now that his nuts are in a ringer and he can take this opportunity to atone for his years of being nasty. The other guy? Not so much.

Only time will tell and I will keep my eyes on the matter; after all, this new wave of raving/misbehaving/apology/rehab/repentence was started by Mel Gibson and his anti-semetic rant. I told you it was all his fault.

Why I Wish I Had Laid Out The Eighty-Seven Bucks To See Justin Timberlake In Concert

I regret heartily that I didn't throw thrift to the wind and shell out the dough for a fair-to-midland seat for the recent Justin Timberlake Concert. It's not just the fact that he delivered quite a show, according to Genn6's accounting. Right now, he is at the very peak of his fame so far and I feel like I've missed being a part of a cultural phenomenon.

Granted, a Justin Timberlake concert is no Woodstock or LiveAid concert, but it is significant event in music. Here is a man who was able to shake loose the stigma associated with being part of the Mickey Mouse Club and N'Synch and really blossom into an artist with significance, significance being record sales. To me, he seems to be at the apex of his career so far. He could continue to rise in significance and become an icon, ala Bono or Madonna. He could make successful album after successful album and maybe even influence world events. He could also slide away and become a characiture of himself, ala Elvis Presley or Cher.

In this post-arena rock, microcosmic world, a girl has to really dig to find a culturally significant event that is both significant to her and in her price range. So far, in my life, I've suffered great disappointment in the culturally significant events I've attended. Among the disappointments, I would first have name Hands Across America as the greatest offender. I was fifteen going on sixteen and I was totally stoked to be apart of a nationwide and literal get-together for charity. When we arrived on Route 62 in Alliance, Ohio there were plenty of people, but not enough for us to stretch across the highway and hold hands. We were all a good 20 feet apart. What a bummer.

Since then, I have looked for smaller venues to find that magical connection with the people around me. For instance, I went with Doc to see the movie "Old School" at a theater after 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, which meant the audience was full of people around our age. There were no kids and no annoying people. Sitting in that theater and laughing with a group of strangers numbering in the hundreds was more of a connection to humanity than Hands Across America could ever be, in my opinion. It was a small event, to be sure, and we weren't trying to end hunger or anything, but for a couple of hours, I felt a part of something.

Now, going to see Justin Timberlake in concert at this moment would probably qualify on the drink size scale as a "Large" event (not small, medium or supersized). His concert tour probably won't change the world. But for those few hours, a couple of thousand people and I would be connected together through music that is innovative, cutting edge, sexy, and understated. The show would be visually stunning what with the light show and all the dancing. And all of my thousands of new BFF's would have seen Justin Timberlake at either his launching point into superstardom or the moment before his downfall. We would have cultural braggin rights, to be sure.

Sigh. Life is too short to pass on culturally significant events. When I'm an old woman, I want to be able to pull a box of momentos off a shelf when my grandchildren come to visit and show them some really amazing things. For now, I have momentos from buying the sixth Harry Potter book at midnight the first day it went on sale. I have concert ticket stubs from bands that have since been inducted into the Rock Hall. I also have stubs that I will never admit to having. I want to show my grandkids that I lived. I soaked up what I could, when I could. I want them to see me as someone who was connected to this world, and even if she wasn't on the stage, she was in the audience for something great.

You may say, why not just see Justin on his next tour? I could do that, I suppose, but by then he'll be either sinking or catapulting and not at this interesting crux he is currently on. He'll either be over or the tickets will be even further out of my price range. I've missed the Timberlake window. But don't worry about me; I'll get over it. Believe you me, I've got my eye on the horizon and when the timing is right, I'm going to dive into the sea of humanity and soak it up.

Dear Warren Beatty, I Bet You Think This Post Is About You

Congratulations on the recognition you received at the Golden Globe Awards last evening. Sadly, I was unable to view the coverage in its entirity; I lack the staff to properly organize every aspect of my life and, therefore, failed to view the show as it happened and lost the opportunity to set the DVR to record it. I missed all the red carpet kerfluffle and a majority of the award presentations. Fortunately, my poverty in both material goods and posse membership did not prevent me from viewing the results this morning on the internet. Two things pleased me much: J-Hud's award for Dream Girls and Mel Gibson's loss for his overblown, overrated and, obviously, flash-in-the-pan grab for artistic credibility, a.k.a. Apacolypto.

I suddenly remembered at around 10:00 p.m. that the award show was on and, being a rabid fan of award shows, I figured I ought to tune in; so I did. And I was just in time to view three quarters of the tongue bath given to you by Tom Hanks, who believes saying that someone has balls is somehow both risque and hilarious enough to repeat at least eight times during is pre-eulogy to you, the Promising New Star of 1962. And then I watched as you received the Cecille B. DeMille award for Over-The-Top Assholery (I hazzarded a guess as to what that award recognizes, as I missed the explanation of its significance. I'm pretty sure I'm dead on.). And your speech moved me to tell you this, Warren Beatty:

Oh. My. God. Please shut up!

I was humiliated for you by your obvious vanity and shallowness. Sure you may be a great actor/director/producer/screenwriter. But you seem to revel in your power like a pig lolling in mud. Frankly, it turned my stomach. The only respite during this 20 minute hubris-fest I felt was, when you were jabbing at my boy, Clint Eastwood, for being an overachiever, the cameras focused on the lovely visage of that old cowboy and TRUE TALENT and lost focus on you and your swaggering, swaying peacockery! Jesus, your speech made me long for a holier-than-thou address on Tibetan public school funding from Richard Gere! At least he has a cause other than himself and his own smarminess.

Your speech went on and on and all you talked about was how lucky you were to have access to just about everyone and everything on the planet. Fuck you, Warren Beatty. Fuck you. And, by the way, where was the orchestra that usually coaxes blowhards like you right off the stage?!? Alas, they were nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were washing your Bentley.

So, instead of enjoying the rest of the award show, I was forced to turn you off and watch some Scrubs. Hopefully, you'll enjoy what remains of you life by revelling in your good fortune and rubbing it in the faces of everyone you meet. I suppose that's what I would do, once I'm famous.

Thanks again for being a role model to us all.

Sincerely,

Flannery Alden
Celebrity Watch Dog

It's Better To Look Good Than To Feel Good, Dahling!

For the sake of all that is holy and fashionable, I will need to continue to tinker with the look of my blog. After my good friend, Terry pointed out that the new color scheme was a Glamour Don't, I figured my redecorating job was incomplete.

So, please, pardon my dust, as I attempt to make this place the awesomest and fiercest blog on the block.

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The Unofficial Site of [Redacted]

Because Echo totally quoted me (and not in the footnotes).

xoxox