June 1, 2005 - May 25, 2005
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Madonna colorless? This from Orla Healy of the New York Post
Just over a decade ago, when the sassy
provocateur created a firestorm by displaying her blond ambition in a
pointy cone bra, it would have been insane to suggest she would mellow
to the point of wearing buttoned-up army fatigues onstage.
But, you see, that was before Madonna discovered -- like Barbra
Streisand, Sharon Stone, Julia Roberts, Susan Sarandon, Jessica Lange,
and Whoopi Goldberg -- that she was really this political scientist who
needs to educate her public about wars and bushes and such. That's why
her new "Re-Invention Tour" isn't so much a concert as a choreographed
seminar on global affairs:
Instead of a sexy, flashy, fun-filled
show, concertgoers Monday night got an endless dose of political and
She sat in an electric chair and dances
and sang against a backdrop of war images, President Bush and Saddam
Hussein. The sound of detonating bombs punctuated the song "American
Onstage, dancers dressed like soldiers
did push-ups and calisthenics as helicopters swept in and infernos
blazed on the video screens behind them.
And then she sang John Lennon's
"Imagine," accompanied by a video of sick and injured children from
around the world.
There was religion, too — plenty of it.
Madonna's passion for fashion has clearly been usurped by her fetish
for Kabbalah, as evidencd by the flashes of untranslated Hebrew text
displayed in the background of her performance, which hits Madison
Square Garden on June 16.
In a review in yesterday's Los Angeles
Times, critic Robert Hillburn begged Madonna to "bring back the sex. Or
at least something with flesh and blood, please."
We don't like to indulge in the game of 'I told you so' too often,
but we saw this coming a long way back. Madonna has run out of things
anybody care anymore? Haven't we seen everything this diva
has to show? And she hasn't just shown it—she's squeezed
it, spread it, inflated it with silicon, masturbated with it on stage,
given it away free to every straight Hispanic male in Newyork
City, and then sung about it in some mediocre but over-produced video
that every kid over the age of twelve has seen a hundred times. So now
she has a baby and she's in love with
motherhood. Who gives a flying
Shuteye Nation 2000
How does the old saying go? Politics is
the last refuge of a whore? Something like that anyway.
. Here's something
than Madonna in fatigues.
. One thing we forgot
to mention in our entry about Teddy Kennedy was his incredibly close
friendship with the other senator from Massachusetts. So we're
mentioning it now.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
The Wages of Liberalism
Serving your country party takes a toll
hard to know how to respond to Ted Kennedy. The temptation is to laugh
bitterly until the bad taste in your mouth makes you feel a little sick
at your stomach. On the other hand, there's clearly still something
dangerous about a man who evokes such fawning
from the objective minions of the media. And since --
hard as it is to believe -- he is
a United States Senator, his penchant for blubbering treason
while American troops are in the field is concerning. Yet any attempt
to analyze his public pronouncements results in dizziness of the kind
you experience when your foot tries to land on a step that isn't there.
It's impossible to come to grips with a rationale, a philosophy, or a
standard of basic decency that just doesn't exist. Teddy says what he
says. Who can know what he means by it? Why bother? The moralist who
seeks to shame a billygoat is only making a fool of himself. Gigantic
as he has become, there isn't much to
Ted Kennedy. Appetites. Bluster. Vindictiveness. A few million
acquiescent sheep in his home state. And the eternal blind eye of the
mainstream media. Fulminating is pointless, which means that
laughter is probably the best of a poor lot of responses. Herewith our
entry from Shuteye Nation 2000, where all the names have been changed
in order to fool no one.
. U.S. Senator from Machusetts
and, formerly, the stupidest member of Ameria's most famous political
family. Like everybody else in the
family, he thought he was supposed to be Presdent of the United State,
but he postponed doing it for awhile because he didn't want to get shot
while he was still young enough to drink and have sex
with anything in a skirt. By the time he decided to go ahead and be
the rules had changed and it wasn't enough to just be a
also had to get the mass media's
permission to run by convincing them you had a vision or something.
Teddy had was double vision, which didn't qualify at the time, and so
went back to drinking and screwing until he weighed four hundred pounds
and girls started getting killed having sex with him... unless that was
earlier in his career. Anyway, somebody made him stop drinking and
and he turned over a new leaf by getting married and losing five
Eventually he got so dignified that he didn't have a lot to say about
sex scandal and the perjury
and the rest of it. But it's probably safe to assume he was more
of the Presdent's private life
than some of his senate colleagues.
*Originally, the 'schwartzen,' was silent, but it's gotten consistently
louder over the years, until by now it's practically deafening.
Teddy still likes to go swimming,
though. What a rack!
And we didn't mention Mary Jo Kopechne once. Oops.
Monday, May 24, 2004
From left to right, writers E. L.
Doctorow, Kurt Vonnegut, and Rene Girard
. Why are
so-called serious writers such idiots? Or am I getting ahead of myself
here? Are you unaware that Ernest Hemingway and Norman Mailer are two
of the stupidest men who ever lived? Has nobody told you that John
Updike is a moron, Gore Vidal an imbecile, John Le Carré a box
of rocks, Susan Sontag a drab with the IQ of a fencepost? Then allow me
to elaborate. Facility with words is not intelligence. It's a knack.
You wouldn't automatically assume that a superb carpenter is also a
brilliant botanist. Or would you? Perhaps you've been taken in by the
photographs on the back cover. Writers work on their eyebrows as much
as they do on their syntax. They would dearly love you to believe that
getting you to turn pages is the same sort of accomplishment as
understanding the source of the universe. It isn't, though. There may
have been a time when writers had to be philosophers as well as
wordsmiths. But modernism changed all that. It was Hemingway -- dumber
even than Picasso -- who rewrote the rules to prevent
actual thinking from intruding on the process of writing literature.
How dumb are writers? They almost all jeer at Hemingway these days, but
they all still obey his rules: don't ever write about the meaning of
life; write about the chipped teacup on the kitchen table instead. In
fact, even the philosophers have adopted Hemingway's rules. They don't
talk about meaning anymore; they talk about politics and sociology
instead. (This is our excuse for directing you to this outstandingly
with Rene Girard
an exercise in mental masturbation so ridiculous that it just had to be
And so to our pedestrian topic for the day, the latest outbreak of
'wisdom' in the ranks of mediocre American scribblers. E. L. Doctorow
is a great writer. Ask him. Look at those eyebrows. He tried to share
with the graduating seniors at Hofstra the other day. They booed him.
Good for them. In the hierarchy of literature he's an ant
. He should know
when to shut up. Which is what reminded us of Kurt Vonnegut, the hack
who never met a platitude too dead obvious to turn into a novel
. He recently
wrote an op-ed piece so mind-numbingly dopey that when it started
circulating on the Internet, the folks at Snopes.com felt obliged to
discover whether or not it had actually been written by the author of
Slaughterhouse Five. It had
How should one go about protecting one's self from such drivel? Just
think of them as Demi Moore with a Thesaurus and self-important
eyebrows. That might help.
The Day After Tomorrow
New York is going to turn into an ice