Due in no small part to a summer-long marketing campaign complete with the newly-de-rigeur Twittered event, everybody's been talking about the new show called Glee. Produced by Ryan Murphy of Nip/Tuck fame, it lets everybody live out that fantasy high school experience of gaining fame and popularity while joining - I know you're in suspense - the Glee Club. Glee is the hot new thing so far this season, and has given work to some pretty darn good performers, including Lea Michele (late of Broadway's Spring Awakening), Jayma Mays (completely adorable if hurtling towards Poor Man's Red-Headed Zooey Deschanel territory) and Jane Lynch (who should be in everything ever).
The pilot episode aired in May this year, and felicitously closed with a rendition of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" that rescued it from eternal association as the song that accompanied the letdown of The Sopranos' concluding moments. Unfortunately, if the second episode, which aired last Wednesday, is any evidence, it's all downhill from here. The advertising campaign, as is so often the case, is far more clever than the show itself.
Well, it's the weekend again, and nothing is better on a Sunday afternoon than kicking back with a cup of coffee and laughing at photos of animals that have been captioned in LOLspeak. Amirite? So sit back, relax, and let the LOLz roll.
From the reader mailbag: Curious to know what you and Bitch readers think about threesomes. I tried a threesome, and feelings got hurt just like I'd feared they might. I think you gotta be very sure there's no competition between the three, and everyone really is into it (probably obvious, but you know...)
She's certainly not alone in her curiosity. In my dating life I seem to encounter a lot of guys who are not shy about hinting—or just plain asking outright—that they would like to have a threesome with another woman. And apparently they are in good company:
"Threesomes are undoubtedly the new 'Holy Grail' of sex," says Vicki Vantoch, author of The Threesome Handbook: A Practical Guide to Sleeping with Three (Thunder's Mouth Press). "Most people have either had a three-way or thought about it. Yes, even women." (ed: because all women are vanilla and only men have kinks? FAIL.) A recent ABC poll ranked threesomes as the most popular fantasy in America."
My internship at Bitch ended this week and just recently I got a grown-up job. In a perfect world, those two things would not be mutually exclusive, however I am super happy with the full-time gig, feel fortunate that during a recession I was able to land something with benefits and good pay and I'm still contributing to Bitch (like, right not for example) so it works out pretty well. In honor of work and time clocks and general employment, I am bringing you this week's edition of BitchTapes: The Lady Business Edition. I tried really hard to keep it to just songs by the ladies, for the ladies, but the two I included that aren't, I think, are fitting nonetheless.
Whether it's his offhand-way of dropping misogyny, his female-rating system that puts how-many-beers-til-she's-hot-Yalies to shame, or his website that requires only the most minimal of minimal perusals to incite any feminist, it's not difficult to dislike Tucker Max. He's been utterly dissed by the Hater, called a "gender traitor" by Glamour's Ryan Dodge, and this is most definitely not the first time he's been called douchebag. But as a self-professed asshole, Tucker Max would no doubt affectionately embrace this week's Douchebag Decree title. Therein lies the problem: a compelte willingness to embody--and market--being a D-bag.
And with a movie based on his best-selling (yep!) book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell coming out Sept. 25 and a second book Assholes Finish First coming down the pipeline (customers who bought this item also bought The Complete A**hole's Guide to Handling Chicks!), Tucker Max isn't going off the radar any time soon. But why care?
"Rave On" is the Page Turner series that asks feminist writers, artists, musicians, activists, leaders, and scholars to talk about a book that completely rocked their world. Today we feature journalist and scholar Tiny, aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, on the novel Comfort Woman, by Nora Okja Keller.
I had heard about the brutal rape and enslavement of the "comfort women" from Korea in World War II from an Asian-American scholar. I remembered listening to a few words and my mind crumbling into small particles of despair. As the daughter of a tortured woman, I'm never able to hear about hurt inflicted on women and children, man or animal, without bits of mi Corazon y mi alma breaking apart.
I don't really watch American Idol. I did tune in for an episode or two last season, when everyone on the planet was going nuts over the fact that Adam Lambert, a more-or-less openly gay dude and confirmed musical weirdo, had an actual chance at winning it. Unfortunately, the episode that I tuned in for was the one where he sang "Feeling Good," a song I have always really loved coming from Nina Simone, and around the time he hit that bizarre three-year-long air-raid-siren high note ("feelAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGG") I was like, "oh. Good for you, Adam Lambert! Allow me to support you through the use of the 'mute' button."
So, no. Aside from seeing the clips that everyone else sees (because they are everywhere, and there is no way not to see them) I'm not a fan. Still, the news that Ellen DeGeneres is going to be replacing Paula Abdul as a judge in the next season of the show is interesting.
Earlier this morning in Istanbul, Turkey nine women were rescued from a fake reality show set where they had been held captive for two months. The women each responded to an ad for a new season of the Turkish version of Big Brother, and signed contracts stipulating that they would live together in a villa and be forced to pay a hefty fine if they wanted to leave early.
Now, there are a million things that are f@#%ed up about this story. These women were held captive against their will and threatened when they tried to leave without paying a fine to their captors. They were told to wear bikinis and "fight" with one another by the pool, while four men filmed them. They were on camera 24/7, even while changing. They weren't allowed contact with the outside world, not even with family members. However, the worst thing about this awful situation is that it is disturbing because the footage was not aired on national television.
Think about it. If this exact same scenario had played out with the footage being aired as a reality television show, no one would think twice about it. We have officially reached the point where just about anything goes, as long as it will be viewed by millions of people. (In this particular situation, the footage was aired only online, though the women were told it would be aired on TV.) Take the cameras away, and this is an incredibly upsetting kidnapping story. Bring the cameras back, and it's good television.
I haven't been writing about Mad Men too much because I am trying to let it simmer for a while before I make any pronouncements of quality. I will say that I'm still waiting for the good stuff, and that while I'm moderately optimistic that it's coming, this has, thus far, been a strange season for Mad Men's women.
Take Peggy, for example. You already know that I have a fondness for awkward young women on television. It comes from a sense of solidarity with the future name-taker who hasn't yet seen just how many asses she'll be able to kick someday. So it will come as no surprise, I think, when I tell you that I'm on Team Peggy in the Mad Men universe, hoping that she will ultimately triumph over the men who decided what she was before she had the chance to discover it herself. I have always preferred her awkward ambitiousness to Joan's swagger and tart remarks - there was a sense of the outsider to the former, and a refreshing sort of self-awareness.