Archive for February, 2010

When Classic Movies Go Bad

Friday, February 19th, 2010

The other night, I saw the film Blow-Up for the first time. What a piece of shit!

Don’t you hate it when a movie you’re supposed to revere turns out to be crap? Blow-Up is the boringest most pointless movie I’ve seen in years.   I know it’s a landmark movie of the 60′s but seen today, it’s just ponderous and stilted. David Hemmings can’t act to save his life and never changes out of his bright white jeans. After an hour of nothingness, all I wanted was a different pair of pants.

In the end, David Hemmings comes upom a group of mimes and pretends to return an imaginary ball to them. The End. Fuck! Reading the reviews now, I wonder if everyone was too high on acid to figure out what a stupid bad movie it was.

Black Dynamite, on the other hand, is delightful! It’s a loving homage to blaxploitation films, just funny enough to provoke laughs without devolving into a winking satire.   When a sexy lounge singer tells Black Dynamite “I get off in about 15 minutes,” he answers “I know you do, baby.” My husband and I are still having fun saying, “I can dig it.”

Much more entertaining than a Beatle-haired photographer sulking around his apartment or staring into space. One review of Blow-Up explained that it was about meaninglessness. I think that’s just a euphemism for “Huh?”

What classic or cult films have failed to live up to your expectations?

Mrs. Palin Reaches Out To Annoy The Disabled

Thursday, February 18th, 2010

Once upon a time, Mrs. Palin was just a poor innocent little girl whose only friends were a pair of huge prawns. As she grew up with only a voracious appetite for power to substitute for intellect, she turned her back on those faithful prawns. She found herself a baby with Down Syndrome and decided to use it as both sword and shield.

She found out that a TV show called Family Guy made a joke about her. She went and made her daughter Bristol write a crybaby communique on Facebook, complaining that the Family Guy writers were heartless jerks. Waaah!

But Mrs. Palin and Bristol were too retarded dumb to figure out that the Down Syndrome character in the family Guy episode was portrayed as a normal young woman out on a date! A woman who assertively instructs her date to pay more attention to her needs.

The actress who gave voice to that character has spoken out. Yay! She doesn’t know why Mrs. Palin has no sense of humor. And she doesn’t know why Mrs. P is so mad.   She explains: “I’m like, I’m not Trig.”

YES! She is not Trig. Can we have a fucking moratorium on Trig? No? Then, how about an organized opposition among the disabled community against being used to further the agenda of a delusional megalomaniac? Our “special needs” kids are regular people, not Perfect Little Gifts From God to stop everyone from having the option of abortion.

~

I am working on a word salad to represent all that is repellent about Mrs. P.   I’m not finished yet, but so far it goes like this:

Our great country full of real people, real people who have to put fresh moose protein on the table, not to be lectured by a Harvard lawyer, but also too the terrorists who seek to hide behind our great constitution, where Putin and others like him may wish to use Death Panels to kill my precious baby, unlike the real America, real hard workin’ Americans, if you just let the private sector do its work, use some of those good decent common sense values, like those out on the north Slope, those written by our Founding Fathers, I can tell you as a mother of five who chose Life along with some good natural Alaskan moose with which this great country is so rich in natural old and gas, we can make America great again. God bless you!

Show Me The Money!

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Are your feet big like mine? Are they a US 10 or IT 40? If so, you can buy these awesome Illex Kinni shoes RIGHT NOW for $230, saving yourself $20 from the retail price.

Or! You can buy these fabulous Vivienne Westwood boots, same size, for only $250 plus shipping!

Both of these are UNWORN, waiting in their boxes under my bed for someone who can walk in heels.

Yes, yes, I am a cunt who once bought acquired shoes and lots of other pricey stuff in the mistaken belief that they would make me happy, lovable, and shielded from life’s essential and meaningless horror. Okay?

Now I’m a cunt who needs to try to pay bills.

Contact me at sisterwolf666@gmail.com if you’re interested.   If you’re not, PLEASE don’t tell me why in a comment, unless you want me to kill you or you happen to be Wendy Brandes.   Thanks! xoxo

Comments for Jane 2/18/2010

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Sea of Shoes has been busy since she acquired her “tri-tone brogues” by Comme des Garcons (Que to cry, Tavi!)

In fact, she and Mom have been at the Chictopia blogger summit, to discuss their own influence. According to WWD, Sea… is working on a project “that has to do with a community of fashion bloggers, like a fashion agency, that will bring a little order to the way brands and bloggers work together,” she said, adding that “blogging has increased the pace fashion moves at.”

Oh my! take your time to digest this.

Okay, good. So Sea (i.e., Mom) wants to bring a little order to fashion blogs. Maybe creating an official hierarchy by creating some kind of agency? Shit, you tell me, I don’t know what she’s talking about but it doesn’t sound like anything we need.

In the photo above, Sea looks pissed. She’s thinking, “Why the fuck am I here, I’m so much more important than these losers, I am practically Coco Fucking Chanel!”

Do you have a comment for Jane, who still won’t allow you to make one? This is your chance to speak up. I will go first:

“Dear Sea, please don’t get into some crazy shit where you try to control the Internet because it just won’t work. It doesn’t pay to throw your weight around when you’re eighteen years old and have to go everywhere with your mom. I can’t help thinking you actually believe that life is about shoes. One day, you will have to live down this whole episode. Love, SW.

Stick Around

Monday, February 15th, 2010

All week, I’ve been reading the little tributes to Alexander McQueen. Some of them just feature a nice picture with either “R.I.P” or “There are no words.”

But there are words, and I’ve been waiting for them.

People who kill themselves take a lot of other people with them.

They aren’t “laughing in heaven with Isabella Blow”, they are just dead.

People who kill themselves are usually in great distress. They are not right in the head. If we take care to monitor our depressed friends and loved ones, we might be able to save them; but we might not.   Maybe we need to reach out more. Maybe we need to make depression easier to talk about. Antidepressants still carry a stigma even now. I can’t stand to hear people say “Oh, my doctor recommended medication but I’m not taking that route.” You never hear anyone with pneumonia making that statement.

Maybe Alexander McQueen was unhinged by grief over losing his mother. Now his dad has to deal with the loss of a son.

No one wants to talk about the brutality of suicide. The people left behind are victims as well. It’s an act of negation, a complete loss of hope, but it’s also a selfish act. I would even say ruthlessly selfish.

I’m not worried about whether poor Alexander McQueen is resting in peace, but I’m deeply sorry for his family. It will fuck them up forever.

Don’t kill yourself, you fuckers! We need you here. Things will get better. That is my message, so pass it on.

Now With Twice The Horror

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

Here is Erin Wasson enjoying the triumph of her awful fashion show. How can you even calculate the horror? Begin with the hat, I guess, and work your way down.

These sweatpants are like a little piece of Erin Wasson….a soupcon of Erin Wasson. They simply offend on every level. The exciting thing about them is that they’re unflattering from every view. $75 at Revolve.

I Told You Hair is Everything!

Saturday, February 13th, 2010

Just look what happens when you take away Mrs. Palin’s trademark big hair! It’s like Samson after Delilah got through with him!

A genius over here altered some pictures of Mrs. P by removing the long hair (along with the glasses and trashy earrings.) Voila, she is instantly disempowered.

Without going into my Nobel Prize Exegesis on the subliminal sources of Mrs. Palin’s magnetism (because I haven’t written it yet) I will just say that without these totems, she loses the medley of conflicting archetypes that serve to resonate with both her fans and detractors.

With the Big Hair and other accoutrement’s, she is simultaneously a Vixen, Church Lady, Librarian, Dominatrix, Stripper and Mommy. Take that shit away and   what do you have?

(I know Mr. Duff will have a good answer.)

The Doctor’s Office

Friday, February 12th, 2010

I finally decided to see the doctor today, when my terrible sore throat turned into a fever with body aches and a rattling bronchial cough. Since I didn’t already have an appointment, I was told I could be a walk-in patient but I’d have to wait.

After an hour of waiting in a nearly empty waiting room, I was joined by a teenager who’d been stung by a bee. Her father was an asshole. They took the bee-sting girl and left me to wait, coughing my guts out. I asked why the girl got to be seen before me, and that seemed to elevate the hostility from behind the window.

I lay down across some chairs, and tried to stop coughing. Patients arrived and were led behind the door to see their doctors. They were all fat. The women behind the glass window were fat as well, and spoke in proud pidgin English or whatever it’s called when you’re Latina and refuse to use proper grammar.

A father arrived with four kids under the age of ten. I was entranced by how gently he brushed his son’s hair behind an ear stuffed with cotton. The youngest child walked over to me to look at the fish tank. We talked about the stuff in the tank and she called the sponge a “ponge.”   I was brokenhearted when her father took her away to see their doctor.

Three hours passed. I decided that the office women were punishing me for not being fat. I wanted to stick my head through the window and scream, “It’s not my fault I’m not fat.”

Meanwhile, I brought a book with me that I’ve meant to read for years: The Afterlife, by Donald Antrim. It turned out to be a memoir about a crazy mother. The writing is amazing. The kind of writing that hits the exact right spot, like sex. It was so intense that I had to keep putting it down to recover from it.

Finally, I pretended to have to use the restroom, and I went behind the door. I sat on a chair in the hall where no one could ignore me, and coughed dramatically.

A doctor I’ve never met before asked me what the problem was. I told her that one problem was the 3 1/2 hour wait. I confided that it was punitive because the office women hated me. She reacted badly to this so I apologized and told her my symptoms.

She gave me some antibiotics, some cough syrup with codeine, and a ridiculous lecture about my attitude. She told me that there was a time to be stoic and a time to be vulnerable. Except she said “vunerable” without the L. That was the last straw. I felt a visceral* repugnance for this doctor, who then went on to ask “What are you doing for yourself?” I am always disgusted by that question and I   don’t like to lower myself to answer it. I told her, Well, I write.

She said, “That doesn’t count. I mean, like music.”

*The word for this week is visceral.

Three Quotes to Think About

Thursday, February 11th, 2010

Kelly Bensimon, on why her Playboy photos don’t feature gratuitous shots of her genitals:

“I don’t think that part of a woman’s body is really evocative. The roundness of the hips, the buttocks, the breast, the shoulders, the clavicle, the hair, the teeth–those are things that I think are most evocative and provocative parts of the body. So I don’t think it’s really necessary to show that.”

Tavi G. on her first ever ‘aha’ fashion moment:

“I think one I can pinpoint is Comme des Garcons fall 2009. That collection made me cry, and I was just seeing it online.”

Karen Finley as Jackie Kennedy, in her new one-woman show, “The Jackie Look:”

“Please release me. Please don’t look at me.”

Literary Feuds

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

I’ve always loved literary feuds, and now there’s a new one, between Andrew Sullivan and Leon Wieseltier.   Because the two men were once very close friends, their rift seems especially bitter.

I love Andrew Sullivan   because he was a vocal detractor of Mrs. Palin from the very beginning. He is also a Trig Truther, and has taken a lot of shit for it.   Leon Wieseltier, his former mentor, has accused him of being anti-Semitic.

I hope their feud goes on for a while longer, but I hope they make up in the end.   If their feud is too dry and political for you, you might like the Fax Feud between Camille Paglia and Julie Burchill, which degenerates quickly into hilarious name calling. It’s probably my all-time favorite.

Luckily, some literary feuds have been preserved on YouTube, like this one between William Buckley and Gore Vidal, where Buckley flips out and calls Vidal a “queer.”

Years ago, I enjoyed starting feuds in newsgroups, posting under the name “Latasha’P.” They area still search-able via Google groups. I managed to turn the men against the women by constantly referring to My Period. Ah, those were the days.

I’m glad that Feuding hasn’t become a lost art. A good feud is so bracing! I’ve noticed that no matter how provoking or obnoxious Sister Wolf is, no worthwhile feuds have developed. They are not for the timid, I guess. Or maybe   it’s because   everyone knows that deep down, I’m the nicest person on earth!