The new version of Dora the Explorer in its full, four-color glory.
Did Mattel de-tramp her after the uproar over the teaser silhouette?
Rihanna the Doormat
At the risk of blaming the victim, I have to voice a bit of collective anger about Rihanna’s decision to go back to Chris Brown, or as I like to call him, “Rapper-Batterer Chris Brown.” Yet, every time anger rises, sympathy follows, partially blocking the righteous rays of indignation.
Take one look at the fact/sympathy/anger matrix and you’ll see what I mean:
Fact: Rihanna took him back even though she needs facial reconstruction surgery.
Anger: She’s teaching a generation of women that the proper response to getting the crap beat out of you is to go back for more. All in the name of love.
How are we supposed to curb violence against women if the violated women ENDORSE the violence? (btw, if you like a little absurdity to go with your anger, click here to see Rihanna’s full page Cover Girl ad with the headline, “Lighten Your Eyes.” Great. A Cover Girl who has to cover her face).
Sympathy: She’s got trusted friends who are telling her the wrong thing. “It’s no problem,” said close family friend Sharon Bellamy-Thompson, a Barbados fish-market operator, to US magazine. “I have had boyfriends who beat me and then I took them back. I stayed with them because I was in love.”
The Rapper-Batterer’s mom Joyce Hawkins has been no help, lobbying for them to get back together. HIS MOM! Shouldn’t she bet the first to tell Brown, “Don’t even think about getting back together until you’ve gotten help”?
And worse, at a February 13, 2009 taping for VH1’s Storytellers, Kanye West asked the audience, “Can’t we give Chris a break?”
No, Kanye, we can’t. Not until he publicly apologizes, says, “I was wrong and I’m getting help to make sure it never happens again.”
. . .
Fact: She took him back in a matter of weeks. [Read more…] about Rihanna the Doormat
Rihanna, the Cover Girl who has to Cover her Face
The full page ad that ran in People Magazine this week.
That’s what we need– a celebrity showing women the best make-up to hide the bruises.
Here’s what Chris Brown was thinking
The Wheel of Violence (showing the path toward domestic abuse)
Jake Gyllenhaal shirtless in Persia
This man will never wear a T-shirt that says,
“Drink Till You Want Me.”
Jake Gyllenhaal from the 2010 release “Prince of Persia.”
The film is based on the video game of the same name and features Gyllenhaal as “an adventurous prince who teams up with a rival princess to stop an angry ruler from unleashing a sandstorm that could destroy the world.”
Or render all gay men and straight women incapable of thought…
Why I hate The Bachelor
The women are not supposed to chase the men.
The men are supposed to chase the women.
Who does not know this?
It’s wrong. It’s just plain wrong. It violates the social order of the universe.
Yes, I’m talking about The Bachelor, the horrific reality show where a group of attractive young women compete for the attention of one man.
It’s just plain gross, and after seven seasons of this smut, I can no longer stay silent.
No I’m not offended at the TV trend of creating cheap programming by inserting cameras into the lives of crazy people. As an ardent fan of Toddlers & Tiaras, I’ve always said, one family’s dysfunctions are another family’s Friday night entertainment. It’s a free country and if you want to tart up your two-year-old in the hopes of her becoming Little Miss Chitlin’ Strut, you better believe I’m going to watch every mascara-running minute of it.
Nor do I believe that television has a moral responsibility for upholding standards of taste and decency. If the general public wants to lower the bar, who am I to quibble with the network execs for dumbing down our collective IQ?
My outrage has nothing to do with taste, privacy or decency. My moral opposition to The Bachelor is because it violates the laws of nature.
The women are not supposed to chase the men. The men are supposed to chase the women.
Who does not know this?
That’s why women have shorter legs; because we’re the ones who are supposed to be caught. [Read more…] about Why I hate The Bachelor
The only thing I like about Scotch is that it keeps my AIDS in check
How a simple focus group on scotch
whiskey turned into a debate
about coming out.
This is the story of how one gay activist sold his soul for sixty bucks.
Being queer can be expensive — you never know when you may need to dash to The Gap for some damn thing. Or renew Vanity Fair. So I was happy to get on a list for a marketing company who would pay cash money to interview me about various products.
If there’s anything I like discussing, it’s my opinion.
Recently they called and asked if I drank scotch. Of course, I responded. Love the stuff. Okay, it doesn’t precisely jive with the fact I’m a recovering drug addict, but it was the right answer. I was invited to join a focus group on the joys of what must be one of the vilest alcoholic beverages known to man. And they paid cash.
A week later I was escorted into the focus group room with seven other men. I looked closely at the group and it dawned on me – the Wranglers, the boots, the indifference to hair products – that I was dealing with decidedly straight men who lived outside my safe haven of Atlanta. One must remember the only thing wrong with Atlanta is that it’s surrounded by Georgia. [Read more…] about The only thing I like about Scotch is that it keeps my AIDS in check
Did Mattel turn Dora The Explorer into a tramp?
Dora the Explorer — a Whore-a?
Click here to see the side-by-side comparison between the New Dora and a Bratz girl.
OK, sit down and hang on to your backpacks, there’s big news: Dora the Explorer is growing up. And it’s freaking parents out.
Mattel has recently announced that its popular, pint-sized commercial juggernaut will soon debut as an older tween version of the chubby cutie that children and parents have grown to adore-a. And even though Mattel has only released a teaser image in silhouette, parents fear that the shapely shadow suggests well, a real tease.
Truth is, until we can all get a good look at Dora’s new um, developments, this could be much ado about nothing. I mean, I didn’t see a stripper pole in silhouette, so that’s encouraging. But what the news of this makeover does tap into is an unsettling truth: the loss of innocence can sometimes throw us into shock. In the big book of life, Childhood — that time of wide-eyed naivete and unfiltered joy — is a chapter that is becoming slimmer and slimmer. About as slim as the new hips that Dora has grown into.
Mattel is getting alot of shit over this in the media, which as we all know guarantees a cash cow once Ms. Dora hits the shelves. People love a good sex scandal, and yes folks, this qualifies; [Read more…] about Did Mattel turn Dora The Explorer into a tramp?
Is porn bad for you?
Well, on the one hand…
Hollis Gillespie, the author of Trailer Trashed, wrote a post on the unintended effects of porn. The money quote:
Today pornography has absolutely no effect on me whatsoever, except as a mild depressant over what’s obviously expected from me as a female these days — all the care and polishing involved with the breast implants, for example, or all the exacting topiary skills needed for uber-precise pube grooming and whatnot. It does a number on you, I swear.
I know what she means. Just like video lust can make women think less of their bust, it can make guys think less of their…
Draw That Funky Diva, White Boy!
“AFRO” by Paul Wolski.
I’ve got a thing for black women. No reason for raised eyebrows, unless because this admission comes from a gay guy. I guess my statement is not that unusual. I likely could flip through any gay man’s CD collection to find well-worn copies of anything recorded by Whitney, Tina or Diana — Ms. Ross if you’re nasty. Hey, I’ve got my share of diva music, too. There is an interesting chemistry that draws the Gays to dynamic black female entertainers. But my attraction goes beyond the realm of fandom to become inspiration, which ultimately finds its way to my art.
My Pop Art illustrations celebrate women. I’ve got a few male subjects in my gallery, but drawing women is just way more fun for me. My inspiration is no different than that of (mostly gay) male fashion designers who love to create by making women beautiful. As a child, from Disney princesses to Josie and the Pussycats, I have been drawn to drawing chicks, man. And my body of work for the last seven years reflects those inspirations through my stylized, often humorous, archetypal heroines.
For example, I was at the Atlanta airport when I encountered one my muses:
A diminutive Diva pulling her rolling suitcase in a floor-length duster, high heels boots and superfly sunglasses. Her crowning achievement was an afro so fierce, so fabulous, so grand that I’m sure it had its own ZIP code. She strutted down the concourse, and she owned the shit — and everyone knew it. I stood there and marveled at this one-woman parade, this force of nature in denim and snakeskin. The details were as fascinating as the sum of parts. I had to put her on paper. She became my next piece, simply titled “AFRO,” which is to date one of my most popular Alter Egos.
I think living in Atlanta for 12 years certainly has had something to do with my preference to muses of color. Getting past the surface of obvious physical beauty or exoticism that would inspire creation, I notice other qualities in black women that work their way into my art: strength, self possession, regal confidence, humor — and a big dose of attitude, baby. It’s those combined elements that make my drawings come alive and make people smile, because in it they see a truth. Maybe in my own filtered, white-boy way I’ve brought my best attempt at “soul” to the piece. These are women who celebrate themselves completely and make no apologies for who they are. For an artist it’s a powerful message to convey visually.
Now I’m in no way implying that black women have cornered the market on these traits or that women of other racial backgrounds are any less strong, confident, funny or laden with attitude. I love Rosie Perez, too. I just think it’s kinda interesting to note that a Caucasian, Polish gay guy got his groove by no vanilla means.
My explanations here may sound clumsy; that’s why I’m an artist, so I don’t have to write. But all I know is that when pencil hits paper, something is created that connects with the viewer. And as long as my funkadelic, afro-puff, take-no-B.S. characters ring true with people, I’m gonna lay down the boogie and draw those funky divas ’til I die.