The Gilmore Girls Get Fluffy

It's about damn time!!!

pic from opposites are polar.

Pregnancy as Spectacle: Britney, Jennifer, Heidi, et al

PREGGERS CELEBBERS!!!

Boom Boom Boom goes Hollywood. Tummies bulging everywhere. That distended belly button poking like a nipple through the thin cotton shirt. Timelines of swelling, the tummies seem to tick: four, three, two, one -- ta da!!! Baby! Baby! Baby! Sis-boom-bah!!! The envy of all!!!

Sometimes it seems like pregnancy is the new accessory. Sites like about.com have a column devoted to this summers' expectant celebrity couples and there is even a celebrity baby blog (I didn't know babies could type!). Pregnant celebrities also seem to represent a new brand of class priveledge; these are moms who can afford to dress their tots in desginer threads, moms who can afford to hire multiple nannies, moms who can gain up to MILLIONS OF DOLLARS for the first pics of their little tykes (there's capital in that belly!!!).

And its not like people haven't been getting pregnant forever, but the documentation of celebrity pregnancy -- the endless photos and updates chronicling everything from speculation ("is J.Lo pregnant?" or "Jessica and Nick: It's Baby Time!"), gestation, and delivery -- essentially fetishize the combination of celebrity and pregnancy. The whole depiction of pregnant celebs implies though regular folk should envy celebs -- after all, celebs represent potential for a luxurious and labor-free version of pregnancy. And to top it off, celebs are getting props for making motherhood sexy. After all, don't we have folks like Kelly Ripa to thank for the whole Yummy Mommy trend?

Juxtapose this with the push for abstinence-only sex education in the nation's high schools, (um, how is that education???), the Bush administration's persistent attempts to chip away at women's reproductive rights, and their move to cut funding for condoms in Africa.

How many poor, working mothers could those millions of dollars spent on Brit's baby pictures help? How many unwanted, unplanned pregnancies could be prevented with comprehensive sex education? How many lives have been saved by women's access to safe, legal abortions in this country and how many lives could be saved by the simple distribution and use of condoms in Africa?

The sort of pregnancy as spectacle currently in vogue among hollywood starlets is not without precedent. Virgin Mary, anybody? The wives of Henry the VIII and his daughters? That Lady in that Van Eyck painting (who I know supposedly isn't pregnant but . . .)? Rosemary's Baby? All those other ooey-gooey, female body as monster horror movies? And, perhaps the genesis of this newest wave, Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair?

And it goes without saying that the male body is not subjected to the same level of public scrutiny as the female body (though it seems like the emphasis on male muscles once reserved for body-building magazines is becoming more mainstream -- i.e. the popularization of terms like "built" and "cut.").

The contradiction at the center of the Virgin Mary story -- that Mary is pregnant withouth having had sex -- is echoed in the spectacle of celebrity pregnancy. Celebrities perform a version of pregnancy (and motherhood) that is without labor, a version of pregnancy that is surrounded by sparkling fresh dew. The fact that these mothers go on to pose in playboy or walk runways or appear on the red carpet with pancake-flat stomachs just weeks after giving birth also demonstrates this. The whole MILF-phenomena is basically a watered down, suburban version of the virgin/whore tension present in the figure of Eve and at work in the Virgin Mary/ Mary Magdalene paradigm. (Um, is my catholic upbringing at all evident here?). All we need now is a pregnant Barbie. Or how about a pregnant Ken?

Anyway, for those of you who can't wait to see what Brit's baby looks like, I suggest you go over to check out the latest Jenny's World exclusive.

pic of Brit courtesy bbc

O + V

Art Under Capitalism Is Weird; Lawyering Up with Kanye West

Marx, Marx, Marx. So many dudes rolled in one! Even if you are not a fan (as I am: go Marx! De-fense!), I think you can agree that he took the temperature of capitalism purty accurately, and did more to discern the origins of the new economic regime than anybody else before him. And anybody who did a decent job of writing economic history after Marx (Weber, Braudel, blah blah blah, etc.) either followed him or had to engage in dialogue with him. There is a whole school of neoliberal American economic historians whose decision to ignore the questions posed by Marx makes their work read like science fiction (Rostow, Chandler, Galbraith, et al). These are the folks who made the insanities of George Gilder and the Friedmans, Milton and Thomas possible. So, to sum up: whatever we think of socialism, if we want to know how this whole capitalism thing got started, we probably have to read some Marx.

One thing that KM emphasized was that capitalism is a system of property relations, not of "money" and "exchange." Who owns what and why, and how a legal order is set up to protect property rights is the real nub of what Yanquis quaintly call "free enterprise." We can see this really clearly in the case of art. Intellectual property rights have developed in a slow and haphazard way. When capitalists in America were busy producing shoes and cotton and other material goods, they didn't need to concern themselves too much with words and images and sounds. These were still the province of the "folk" (and as such held in common and unownable) or the decadent aesthetes of the old aristocracy (and as such still tied up in one-of-a-kind masterpieces {how are you gonna mass-produce those?} and un-economic institutions like theatres and orchestras). No doubt the capitalists of the 19th century would have been surprised to learn that so much cash could be made in the early oughts from sounds inscribed in little plastic discs and stories projected on screens in darkened rooms.

The best way to evaluate the impact of modern-day capitalism on the production of art is to look at the kind of limits the economic system places on people who make it. For example: FF and I were watching Kanye West's "Diary" on MTV the other day, which documented the making of KW's new album, "Late Registration." Now, I am not a big fan of Kanye, but I like that he is sort of against the diamond trade and dissed George Bush on TV. Kanye was talking about making his record with producer Jon Brion, and while the TV showed a montage of Kanye and Brion jamming and listening back to tracks and singing (in short, what we all imagine the usual process of making music creatively to be) Kanye was pointing out how radical an approach this was: "we didn't even call the lawyers! We figured we'd let the label sort it out later." Take that, management!

Can you imagine having to call a lawyer before you played a note or sang a lyric? (Or wrote a poem or drew a line?) What a dreadful perversion of the creative process by the spirit of capitalism. Even Kanye's "radical" gesture of making a record without having barristers and soliciters on the speed-dial still demonstrates the power of the new climate of intellectual property rights-- even in full-maverick screw-the-system mode, Kanye's still has lawyers on the brain. Which is the last place you want a lawyer. Unless you are Dick Wolf. Or John Grisham. Or Corbin Bernsen. Then... ch-ching!

Fantasy-tastic!

I know, it has been a trillion years since I posted anything. Poor FF, shouldering the Fluffy Dollars burden all by herself. I seem to have developed blog laryngitis over the past couple weeks. I worry that it will give my blog writing a trashy raspy voice like that Bush twin or Alex M from Laguna Beach. I will try to post more often these next couple of days to try to get my blogging chopz sharpened. Okay. I think this is going to go well. Deep breaths.

I love the new Britney Spears TV ads for her perfume "Fantasy" !!! It features Brit and a K-Fed klone running through the forest, with Brit providing a voice-over about a goddess and a hunter, which ends with her saying "so the hunter decided to do something kind of crazy" while the camera tracks an arrow from Fakekayfed's quiver nailing Britney in the back. Then Brit says, "everyone has a fantasy" and you learn that she is shilling perfume. Brilliant!

Things I like about this ad:

1) The production values are terrible. There is a cheezy Ted Turner colorization/technicolor patina to the whole thing which reminds me of the disturbing and nauseating fairy-tale perversities of avant filmmakers Paul McCarthy and Mike Kelley.

2) I marvel at the sublime cluelessness inherent in Brit's mainstreaming of the rape fantasies (the presumed missing "something crazy" filled in by the arrow attack) central to the literary genre of "fantasy": you know, the bodice-rippers and the books with Fabio on the cover and novels where R2D2 is the main character. Unlike Madonna's Sex, which gentrified lots of putatively "transgressive" sexual fantasies with a knowing wink, Britney's "Fantasy" ad serves not to make "weird" desires seem normal and healthy, but to make the most banal of fantasy scenarios (the enchanted forest, the goddess, the pectorally-endowed love interest) seem sick and twisted. Is this because the perverse underbelly of the fantasy, what Lacanians call the kernel of the real, as revealed in Brit and K-Fed's Chaotic, is so horrifying?

3) I love Brit's formulation, "eveybody has a fantasy." First, we leap to the most absurd possible meaning-- that everybody has only one fantasy. You can dream of hitting the links with Arnold Palmer, playing glockenspiel with the Cleveland Symphony Pops tribute to Marvin Hamlisch, or sharing a romantic getaway weekend with Benazir Bhutto. But not all three! Not even two. Just one, buddy. Now get back to work!

But as Marxists, we should go beyond this to the idea of "fantasy" as the symbolic masking of the real relations of production. We should probably spell it with a "ph," because this makes ordinary words that start with "f" into magically cooler words that begin with "ph." But we won't.

Anyhoo, in this sense, everybody does have one and only one fantasy: that as consumers we are engaged in an activity totally separate from the messy wold of work and factories and misery. When we purchase commodities (like Brit's perfume) which in fact represent certain fixed amounts of stored-up dead labor, with cash, which also represents a fixed amount of stored-up dead labor, we seal the symbolic deal. And when we seek to fulfill all of our pleasures, assert our identities and pursue our thrills in the world of commodities, it can be said that the inverse of Brit's insight is in fact true: "a fantasy has everybody."

Whoa. Despair! No. We must ask, as Lenin did, "will this hat really convince anybody that I am not bald, but have a full head of hair that I choose to cover with a hat because I think it looks cooler that way, even though hatless I would still look pretty good?" No, no. That was Jeremy Piven. We must ask, as Brit bravely queried Kevin in Chaotic: "Can you handle my truth?" CAN YOU?!!!!!

All My Books Lined Up

Since the pics of Britney's baby's room have hit the wires, I've been fantasizing about the types of rooms I would have if I had all that money.

So of course I went straight to amazon and e-bay to look at pics of antique bookcases. Check it:




















hot, huh? And look at this.




















Yum . . . so pretty. And of course I love all this furniture from Anthropologie, even though I'm sure it is tres overpriced. Still, this mirrored table is really cute.


















But I have to be honest. If I had lots of money to spend on pretty things, I'd probably buy a bunch of frivolous stuff for a little fluffy dog.

For example:














A chaise lounge for pets? Ridiculous . . .yet CUTE! But don't worry friends, even I wouldn't go this far.

"You Love My Lady Lumps"

Yesterday as I was driving home, I heard this song on the radio, and I was like, oh porn rap (a la 2 Live Crew) is coming back. The song sounded cheap and cheesy -- the sort of thing whipped together in a low-rent studio with drum machines and battery-powered synthesizers. The sort of song dorky white boy djs pump into college bars in order to get all the sorority girls bumping and grinding and spilling their beers (though hopefully not wetting their pants). It was a sort of back and forth between and a playa and a diva, and it was saucy and nasty and ridiculous and trashy, so of course I came right home and googled a bit of the lyrics -- "lovely lady lumps." I was shocked to discover that this song is by the Black Eyed Peas. When did they start sounding like the 69 Boyz??? I mean, I'm not a fan (and let the record show that the Sad Billionaire believes that Fergie is a robot with no soul), but still.

Here's a taste of the lyrics:

What you gonna do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
Ima get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
my hump, My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps.
(Check it out)

I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these icyesys.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and then Donna
Karan, they be sharin
All their money
got me wearin
Fly gearrr but I ain't askin,
They say they love my ass n,
Se7en Jeans, True Religion,
I say no, but they keep givin'
SoI keep on takin'
And no I ain't taken
We can keep on datin'
I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump,
my hump, My humps they got u!

Crazy, huh? Super Kentucky Fried. Extra golden crispy. There's something about this juvenile nursery-rhyme cadence combined with brand names, bling, and the most.absurd.description.of.breasts.ever. that makes me feel like I better prepare for the end of the world. But there is a part that I kinda like.

I met a girl down at the disco
She said hey, hey,hey yea let's go.
I could be your baby,
you can be my honey
Lets spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with
my cocoa puff,milky,
milky riiiiiiight.

So breakfast cereal is in the mix now? Love it. So dippy-drizzled daffy and bizarre. But I guess Cocoa Puffs are among the more sexy breakfast cereals. Froot Loops are basically holes, so they must be pretty sexy. Lucky charms have pots of gold and rainbows, and if you think of the pot of gold and the end of a rainbow . . .I guess that is sort of sexy. Plus there's that whole idea of "getting lucky" AND that "magically delicious" bit.

But I thought lumps were bad. I mean, is there anything positive associated with lumps? Lump of coal? Bad. Lumpy gravy? Bad. Lumpy pillows? Bad. And humps? Also bad. We talk about "getting over the hump," which suggests that the hump is bad. Every time anyone refers to wed. as "hump day" I want to puke. And there are other things -- phrases that combine the word "dry" with the word "humping" that are also bad. Very bad. Very very bad.

Poet Sharon Olds Disses Lady Bush

You go girl!

Link via Verse.

No More Pencils, No More Books

The last time I was at my parents' house, I went digging through boxes and boxes of old books. One of my discoveries was Look and Learn, a science book for first graders from 1943. Since the book was designed for "the pre-reader," it is mostly pictures.

From the Teacher's Notes:

Habits of accuracy in observation and report, habits of intellectual honesty and openmindedness, and habits of seeing relationships are important, not only in the field of science, but in all fields of knowledge.

(Sadly, this is a list of habits I feel most of my first semester freshman lack!)

Anyways, many of the illustrations, despite their sunny goldenness, are pretty disturbing.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given the book's vintage, at how outwardly sexist the "We Grow Up" page is. Women sew, men write. And what's up with all the bar imagery in the first two panels for the little girl? And by the time the girl gets some wheels, the boy is already reading books? Not fair.

Interestingly, these illos bear an eerie similarity to the one below, only instead of comparing men and women, this one compares "wild" and "domesticated" animals -- those that are free and those that are kept and provided for by their owners.

Though the style of illustration is, admittedly, somewhat charming (even in it's accidental irony), I can't help but wonder how such a book made children (particularly non-white, non-middle class children) feel.

And I can't help but wonder how students of the contemporary science classroom might be affected by this whole intelligent design debate. The National Center for Science Education website has a rather comprehensive list of articles chronicling the debate (which makes it clear that intelligent design is just a trojan horse for god). And if that doesn't get your ire up, check out this really stupid article about how recent events (such as September 11th) are being presented in high school history books.

Go Vote

Despite the fact that Lauren Graham was overlooked for an Emmy nod AGAIN, she still looked smokin' on the red carpet.

Go to the Instant Fashion Police on E! to vote for her . . .right now she's in second (behind Kristen Bell, aka Veronica Mars -- who was also overlooked).

I love you LG!!!!!!!

*M.I.A. 2-Nite*

“As an artist, what can you ever become to a society that is so far gone? At a time when the whole world seems to function as a way to find something new, gulp it down as fast as possible, then turn it into a machine that reproduces itself for the masses, I’ve been fortunate that no one’s been able to do that with me.”


from the Austin Chronicle

Rescued

read more here.

Olsen Twins Like Boys

Based on the headline, I thought this article was going to be about something else. . .you know, like the dating habits of the Olsen twins. But, no.

Apparently the twin teen lollipops have inked a deal to promote a line of products inspired by the tween Sprouse twins -- the boys who played Adam Sandler's kid in Big Daddy.

From the article:

If the Olsens were merely trying to make the Sprouses the next girl-magnet teen idols, that would be one thing. But the plan for D.C. Sprouse is to make the boys lifestyle models for other boys.

"Traditionally, or conventionally, branding young male celebs to 'tween boys has been kind of different," Coble said. "If anybody can do it, they [the Olsens] can."

In the Wall Street Journal, Ashley Olsen sounded more than confident. "My sister and I started the whole 'tween empire," she said. "I definitely see the potential for boys to do that sort of thing." (read the whole thing here)

Does anyone else get the willies when they read "lifestyle models for boys" so close to The Wall Street Journal? And what's up with all this "lifestyle" stuff? It just seems like hell-world.

Another way to keep the people down.

ABECEDARIA

is a cool blog about writing systems. Dope.

Anti-Rape Condoms

Awhile back, Feministing had an interesting post about the new anti-rape condoms. A new post recaps the Director of Cape Town's Rape Crisis Center's response to the new device.

Some Bands Are Better Than Others

Smiths Hang in National Gallery.

Thanks to Jenny for the heads up.

I really hate Rory's stupid friends

SPOILED ROTTEN, BUT STILL HUNGRY

So all summer I've been checking the Gilmore Girls board at SpoilerFix. (don't click if you don't want to be spoiled!).

Only to have my heart twisted into a thousand tiny pieces.

And now the premier is finally here. Tonight. Will I stomp around the house seething "I hate Rory!" afterwards? Probably.

But check out Lauren Graham's hair! I am so getting my hair just like that for my birthday this year. H-O-T.

IF Her Dogs Are On The Show, Then We're Def. Gonna Watch

First of all, the important stuff: Martha Stewart has a Chow-Chow named Paw Paw and a French Bulldog named Francesca.

Also, her new show premiers Sept. 21.

Trump has the hair, Stewart has the pups.