Here is where I score point with feminists...

Has anyone noticed lately that fashions for young women, I'm talking 14-25, have become more and more revealing over the past few years? Here are the facts: Clothing for young women has become more revealing and is actually more designed to accentuate their bodies. Young girls wear pants that just about, almost, but not quite show their actual VAG-INA's. And the bras and shirts boost the boobs right up front and center. And the retro hip huggers with flares ("bell bottoms" in the 70s) totally draw attention to the shape of the body.

Now here is where it gets interesting... Men? Their clothing has actually become MORE concealing. Men's fashions have become baggier, thus hiding certain unmentionables like guts and man-boobs. Now thats some shit. I mean, you don't see dudes trying to find ways to accentuate their cocks and balls! Men don't have any clothing options that just about, no not quite, but almost show their scrotums. It just doesn't happen.

And women? They put up with it. They're fine with it. And its not like this is new. Anyone remember the bikini or mini-skirt? Its always about how women can show more of their physical attributes. What were guys wearing when the mini-skirt was big? Baggy clothes, as usual. They wore a bunch of hippy shit.

Well, I don't know about you, but I think women should start demanding that clothing designed to accentuate the penis, and show the ass not stay only in the domain of gay men. Its time that we men start finding ways to advertise our ball sacks! How's that?! "Look at my ball sack! You know I must carry a lot of sperm in THERE! Lets have sex".

Alternatively, women could start dressing more comfortably and casually. Men would have to put up with it. Thats what most women don't get. Feminists get it, but most women don't. Men will put up with anything that women do. Why? Read my post about "Tyranny". Men will not only tolerate you women wearing burkas, but we'll love you for it! We'll have to. We'd have no choice. Women let men get away with murder, and they don't have to. They simply give men power that they don't have. Men are so sexually weak and vulnerable that women could basically do anything, and men would go along with it.

Whatever. Those little shirts that show off the belly, sure are hot though. Damn!

Last Tuesday at lunch, I noticed a really hot looking girl, and GODDAMN, I just wanted her SO BAD! Then it dawned on me, "Jesus Christ! I just impregnated someone! Shouldn't that be good enough?!" I mean, hell, I'm still "on the prowl". Its insane. It guaranteed proof that there isn't a God. Or at least not a "just" God. The way I see it, I just fulfilled my role. I satisfied my task as a male homo sapiens on this planet. I managed to reproduce! I should be given some sort of reprieve for chrissakes! Maybe for a year or so I won't have to notice ever goddamn girl between the ages of 16 and 40 and want to have sex with them! That should be my reward or whatever.

So I'm thinking, childbirth is awful. The nine months of pregnancy is a pain in the ass. Then there is the actual birth which is horrific for all involved. The pain of childbirth is supposedly, according to the Bible, punishment for eating from the tree of knowledge. But what is worse? The childbirth experience which lasts nine months then its over, or feeling the urge to have sex with every girl in the world from the age of 9 to 90?! My therapist called it a type of "tyranny". I agree completely. What a drag.

Even John Lennon was bitching about it. In his diary tape from September 5 1979, he can be heard talking about how awful it to still be attracted to every girl. And that he figured it would be gone by the time he was 39, but he thought it had only gotten worse.

And women are RARELY like this! They will see an attractive man, and may note it to themselves or a friend, but they don't want to SCREW that guy. They don't really think about actually wanting to have sex with the guy unless they're terribly unhappy with the person they're with.

So is the human race so vulnerable that if men didn't want to, and didn't feel the urge to have sex with every single girl ALL THE TIME, then the species would die off? Must be. Because clearly the urge has been passed on through millions of generations of apes, and then us. Obviously, if we didn't constantly want to have sex, we'd risk not reproducing at all. But christ! Why not just feel the urge a few days a month? Shouldn't that be enough? Why 24/7? Its crazy. Its just crazy!

I spent the better part of my youth being an "artist". I drew everyday from the age of five until roughly 21. I was deadly serious about it to. I learned the ins and outs about perspective and anatomy early on. I learned about the miracle of negative space in my teens. I painted and sculpted too. Then I went to art school in 1989. Aside from a class called "Intellectual Heritage" which was just a combination philosophy/polical science class, it was all art. I hated art history. That should've been my first hint that something was wrong. Almost everyone loved art history. I found it boring as hell. The other thing that happened right at the start was a woodshop project for a 3D class. I was terrified that I would cut off a finger, thus ruining my entire life. I complained often and no one cared.

The teachers said all of our stuff was "shit". Then by the end of the year they liked it. Nice gig, eh? The second year started fine. But by late fall I was starting to lose it. I had oil paint in my fucking nose and mouth and eyes. And I didn't even bother to try to clean it off because it would just happen again the next day. I would wait until a painting was complete (maybe 2-3 weeks), then take a "turpentine shower", and scrub all the paint off with a brillow pad. One day I was walking across the campus, and gust of wind blew the paint palette I was carrying in front of me right against my new coat. People laughed at me. Yes, it was an ill wind, and I knew from that moment, I wasn't going to be cut out for a life in the arts.

One of my teachers that semester told us about this wonderful opportunity in North Philadelphia to live in a loft with other artists. For some obscene amount of money, you could rent a "space" in a large room, wall it off with bed sheets, and sleep and paint there with others just like you. Jesus Christ, I can imagine the miasma of oil, sweat, turpentine, and weed in that place. She suggested that this was an excellent choice for after college. What the hell?! I just didn't give a shit about painting enough to endure that kind of hell. So after one more semester, I left art school, and that was it. Aside from the occassional doodle or sketch, I have had little interest in 12 years.

I really don't have anything to say or prove in the "visual medium". And I'm convinced that all the best art has already been done. What I'm realizing is that no one gives a shit about art except other artists, and they sort of sustain themselves in their own little sub-community, thus immunizing themselves from their irrelevancy. That is probably a history of art in a nutshell. What makes someone a "famous artist" is when some rich person decides to have a hobby, and is silly enough to buy "a piece" by one of these poor artists. And don't be fooled. These rich folks don't typically buy controversial paintings of bloody penises and the pope in a porno.

Oh, and what do I say about my peers who stuck with it? I mean... we were so damn isolated at that art school. In 1989, we didn't know that our country went to war in Nicaragua, or even that Berlin Wall came down. And listening to a bunch of art school students try to discuss anything about science, philosophy, or history is like listening to four year olds arguing over whether people actually live in the TV. So how can these happily ignorant people have anything useful to accomplish with their "work", when they don't the first thing about the world around them?

So for me, I just don't care. I don't mind drawing a bit here and there, but as for the rest, I have no use.

I got home last night at around 8:00. I walked to the kitchen and noticed that the cat food was virtually untouched. Thats odd, because normally Sluggo, if not Mindy, plows through an entire bowl during the day. I went upstairs and got changed. I noticed Mindy hanging around, but no Sluggo. I started to call for her, but no still no Sluggo. First I started checking the windows. They were all closed. And I checked the sliding doors. No problem there. Then I looked under the bed, in the closet, in the bathrooms, in the basement, in the toilet, under the sink, and behind the refridgerator, and still NO SLUGGO! So by now, I'm freaking out! Someone must have STOLEN SLUGGO!

I called R and explained all of this. She asked if I had checked everywhere that I'd already checked. I checked some of these places again. She asked if Sluggo could've slipped out in the morning when I went to work. But that is inconceivable because Sluggo never tries to slip out like that. And besides, I remember seeing her sitting by the couch, and even thought "Damn cat, sitting there all day, while I have to go to work!". Obviously, someone had stolen Sluggo! R couldn't understand why someone would do that (she even asked if I had any enemies), which was a shock since she has met Sluggo numerous times. I said, "Don't you get it? She's the best cat in the world! Someone must've found out and stolen her!"

I didn't know what to do, so I went outside, and started looking for her carcass. I called her name several times, but I knew it was FUTILE! I went back inside the house and mumbled to R on the phone. I'm sure she was happy that I called to share my crisis. Then I heard a meow. I couldn't tell from where, but it seemed like outside. I walked to the sliding door, and I see Sluggo strolling across the patio, and she walked right on in. So whoever stole must have released her somewhere and she found her way back. Or perhaps she escaped the other person's house, and came back to me. Either way, someone stole Sluggo.

Nobody ever disappears now. All it takes is some morbid nostalgic curiousity and a few good search words in your favorite search engine, and you can find out what you college roommate from freshman year is doing. I spent the past 20 minutes at this task, searching for various names, in different combinations, trying to see what people are doing. More interesting than the results (which weren't interesting at all) was the names of people that I remembered and why. For instance, I remember "Pete Frank" and "Brian Kibler" because they were two of the first people I made friends with in college. I remembered "Karen Paldan", of course, because I had an unrequited crush on her for five months. I remembered "Moneka Hewlett" because she had a strange first name (pronounced Mo-Knee-Ka) and she was funny. I remembered my freshman roommate "Sean Stoops". I remembered "Connie Malone" because of the many lurid sex tales she was involved in. Her nickname was "Connie Jizz" (sorry). I also remembered "Jaime Snyder" because, even back in 1989, I thought that out of all of the people in my class, she was the only one that would amount to anything as an artist. I don't know if thats true, but I DID find her name several times.

Most importantly, the name had to be easy to spell. The girl that lived across the hall was named "Cybelle Barrett" which could be spelled any number of ways. Its a shame too. I once saw her "bush" because she was changing with the door open. I walked by and there it was. Then I wrote about it in a terrible song by Dave And The Slaves called "Mr. Mike", who she was doing at the time. "John Deininger" could be a misspelling too. He was in my band, The Man. Awful. Of course, the women could be married, so that makes it hard.

Overall, from my findings, I'm underwhelmed. I sit in my high perch (actually low) and I'm not impressed. Well, no one really gets famous. I'm sure they are all doing fine. Well, actually I don't know that. Either way, it doesn't matter what I think. I'm the one searching for these people on the internet. My name never comes up. Ha.

Here's the problem... but first some background. I was in Borders Books & Music yesterday and I noticed a cd by some beautiful girl, and she was signed to MCA. And then I realized, there are hundreds of similar young beautiful women with record deals. Go to any record store and you'll see tons of them... "Joss Stone", "Shannon McNally", "Alana Davis", "Thea Gilmore", "Tift Merritt", "Kathleen Edwards", "Kasey Chambers", etc... the list just goes on and on and on. Every one of these girls is hotter than ANY girl you've ever seen. So, the cynical person may think "Oh, it just the record industry marketing another pretty face". But thats not true. These girls aren't un-"talented"! I don't care for their shit, but they aren't total crap, and most of them play instruments and write songs (separating them from the Britney's, Christina's, and Jessica's).

The problem is that the threshold for what is considered talent is so LOW now, that even pretty people can be talented. It used to be that only unattractive people would have enough time to learn a skill and hone a talent, but now virtually ANYONE can do it. The bar is so low that all one needs to do is learn a few chords, sing fairly well, and thats good enough. So, this is wonderful for record industry types. Now, they don't have to deal with how to market say a... Laura Nyro or Mama Cass. These hot young muffs market themselves! Each one of the above mentioned young ladies can adorn the cover of any glamour magazine.

What used to be solely the domain of unattractive loners is now wide open to beautiful models as well. So, its basically just one more reason to feel bad about yourself. Pretty people even have a lock on talent. I think that if the rest of us want to get past all of this we have to become much better, and so much more talented, that we can't be denied. That probably won't happen though...

Yes, I think everyone should buy "Phanton Power" by Super Furry Animals . Its just damn good. This album is more stable and consistently wonderful than their last album, "Rings Around The World". Although, nothing reaches the pure insanity of "Run Christian Run" or "Presidential Suite". Nevertheless, this album is better more often. Go buy it now. Make the world a better place.

Buy Phantom Power Right Now

I can't stand when formerly good friends throw me on a mailing list and send the same messages to me and everyone else they know. Wow. One friend, whom I will not mention, put me on her list, and I happened to notice that next to my name was some guy called "Smooth". Smooth was some urban hippy she met on the beach and had sex with once. And there he was, right next to me, a long time good friend. And so, thats what it has come to. I am the same as a guy she had sex with once and never saw again. I, who was there for the tears and fears and everything else, am the same as "Smooth". Damn, thats cold. Besides, being rude, these lists are just big trouble. One of the ways viruses spread is through the use of such lists. They automatically send messages to everyone in a person's address book. Then the message spreads the virus as soon as its opened, or if someone double clicks on a executable file, or clicks on a link that is executable. Anyway, I think the whole thing sucks.