MUSIC

The Jonas Brothers: The Sugar Overload Is Bad For Tweens’ Health

By Anna Apocalypse

A Once upon a time, I was a tween living 20 miles outside New York City, with only my stereo and CDs to channel my angst.

The Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Bush, Silverchair, and Everclear were my relief, gracing my Discman on a consistent basis. Some may diss these bands as carbon copies of one other, but there’s no denying that they were comprised of musicians who knew how to play instruments.

The same can not be said for The Jonas Brothers, or Hannah Montana, or any of the other dozens of manufactured pop acts that tweens are currently being spoon fed. Adolescence is not an easy thing to go through (sixth grade girls can be so cruel ). Kids really need music that can help them vent their rage against the machine, not cardboard cut-outs manufactured by the pseudo "family friendly" Disney.

Okay, I’m biased. After all, when most girls were lusting after Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys in 1998, I was taping up posters of Kurt Cobain. I’ve never been a huge fan of contrived pop music, but it’s obvious to anyone with ears that these sugary snacks that pass for pop acts won’t produce the next great sound wave.

So, next time your child/cousin/sibling is nagging you to buy them Jonas Brothers tickets, toss them a copy of Nirvana’s Nevermind instead, and show them what real angst is all about. And make sure their alternative-listening, Hot Topic-shopping brother or sister cuts out that My Chemical Fall Out Romance Boy shit while you’re at it.

Together, we can free tweens from disposable pop stars and, hopefully, widen a few adolescent minds along the way.

Anna Apocalypse, who blogs at Pop Apocalypse.Blogspot.com, will comment periodically at CrabbyGolightly.com on music.

RACE

Michelle Obama Frees Black Women From Stereotypes

By Danielle Cadet

WATCHING MICHELLE OBAMA ONSTAGE MONDAY NIGHT WAS LIKE THROWING OPEN A WINDOW AND BREATHING FRESH AIR.

The eloquent and elegant Mrs. Obama represents black women whom too often go unseen in our culture: those who live straddled between the black and white worlds. Because too often, those who have been the beneficiaries of economic success must forego their ethnicity.

Not Michelle. As she addressed the nation, I (and perhaps every black woman in America watching) held my breath and crossed my fingers. I prayed that every strand of hair was in place, that her neckline wouldn’t cut too low. I prayed that she sounded educated and independent, but simultaneously supportive of and in love with her husband.

Educated black women look to Michelle Obama to give face to an overlooked demographic. More often than not, I was the only black girl (or only black person for that matter) in my school room, and every time I opened my mouth it felt like I was speaking for every black person in America. For Michelle, the Democratic Convention was her classroom and her speech represented every black woman in America.

The very idea of Mrs. Michelle Obama, lawyer and mother, provokes a challenge to whites and blacks: she’s hard to make fun of, unlike Condoleeza, and she’s not self-loathing like Clarence Thomas. Michelle Obama is also not your average “white-washed” black woman in the political sphere. She is confident and comfortable in her own skin; she gives flesh to the ghost that is the black successful woman.

As a nation we question the “blackness” of affluent African Americans. The truth of the matter is, we have nothing to validate. It’s possible to be a black success story outside of the constraints of the stereotypical “black norm” (because, honestly, most of us aren’t rappers, athletes, or drug-dealers).

As a child of the new millennium, I’ve never had to use separate bathrooms or drinking fountains, or sit in the back of the bus. But I’m aware of the different America I live in because of my skin color. I’ve been asked numerous times to choose between my race and my success. I’ve been told that I’m not “black enough,” and frankly the only people I ever identified with in popular culture were the children from The Cosby Show.

For me, Michelle Obama is the 21st century’s Claire Huxtable in the flesh. She is the positive projected future of young black women. For the first time in my life, the television has become a mirror in which I can finally see people just like me.

Danielle Cadet is a Danielle is a journalism student Northwestern University who likes to write about fashion and popular culture catastrophes.

POLITICS

Michelle Obama Shines At The Democratic National Convention

By Elizabeth C.

IF IT WAS STRATEGY THAT ALL THOSE WHO SPOKE BEFORE HER WOULD SOUND LIKE THE FARAWAY WHISTLE INSIDE A SEASHELL, IT WORKED.

For Michelle Obama, Chicago South Side Girl, Ivy-Leaguer, likely-future-first-lady, stole the show at the Democratic National Convention’s opening night in Denver.

Opening the prime-time hour, Democratic Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi sung the praises of the party’s nominee Barack Obama and, more notably, Hillary Clinton. "All Democrats salute Hillary Clinton for her excellent campaign,” the Lady Speaker of the House said one minute into her address. "Our party and our country has been strengthened by her candidacy." She pooh-poohed John McCain‘s record as "experience of being wrong on the failed Bush policies that have weakened our economy and taken us from the Clinton surpluses to the reckless Bush deficits."

Soon afterward, Camelot survivor Caroline Kennedy took the stage and waxed romantic about Obama inspiring millions to have hope. Although she delivered her words clearly, Caroline proved she doesn’t have her protege’s gift for soaring rhetoric. People listened out of respect for her name, and to the man she came here to honor: her "Uncle Teddy," Sen. Edward Kennedy. A mawkish videotape served as premature obituary for the Massachusettes Senator, followed by a surprise but predictable address by Kennedy himself. C-SPAN‘s cameras kept cutting to Caroline and Maria Shriver in the audience looking grim or tearful as their uncle spoke. "Uncle Kennedy," being treated for a brain tumor, pledged that he would be on the floor of the U.S.Senate come next January.

There were some comments by unknowns like Miguel Del Valle, the Chicago City Clerk, and Candi Schmieder, an Iowa delegate, college dropout and mother of three who was inspired to hope once again by Mr. Obama. Jesse Jackson Jr. also spoke, but all I heard was more seashell whistles.

My ears suddenly cleared when former Senator Jim Leach, a Republican from Iowa, took the stage and excoriated George Bush‘s record. What was this? A Republican dissing his party leader? This was no white noise.

"As a Republican I stand before you with deep respect for the history and the traditions of my political party,” Leach said. "But it’s clear to all Americans that something is akilter in our great republic. In less than a decade America’s political and economic standings in the world have been diminished…Seldom has the case for an inspiring new political ethic been more compelling, And seldom has an emerging leader matched the needs of the moment."

Leach ended his speech by saying he supported a "transcending candidate who I am convinced will recapture the American Dream and be a truly great president." Holy Cow! This was news!

Finally, the night’s keynote speaker arrived, introduced with a schmaltzy video that humanized Michelle. Gone were the rumored horns substituted by a halo.

And then she was in the flesh, wearing blue V-neck sweater dress and a radiant smile. She gave the performance of her lifetime, with more passion and feeling than anyone who had come before her that evening. It wasn’t what she said so much as how she said it. She appeared sincere and classy and likeable; she had practiced hard and it showed. We also met her mother and now-deceased father, good folks you’d be proud to know, and a brother-turned-best-friend. And, of course, we got to hear Obama say during a live feed from Kansas that his wife looked awfully cute too. On the count of three, now: Awww, isn’t that sweet?

I couldn’t find the ”perfect bite" from her 17-minute speech, so check her performance out in its entirety here, and then make your own call.

TELEVISION

The Dual Nature of Model Isis: Both Role Model And Pawn

By Benjamin Bradshaw B. G

LAAD president Neil Giuliano praises America’s Next Top Model for the inclusion of a transgendered contestant for the upcoming 11th season. This is a first for the show that has only previously exploited natural women for television ratings.

The CW announced that Tyra Banks‘s model search (read: girls that are remotely pretty and some who are kind of ugly that haven’t been on another reality competition yet) will include Isis as a twist. Previous twists have been less controversial, including a blind girl, one with Asperger’s syndrome, and a few "plus sizers."

I welcome Isis after 10 seasons of a tired formula that only changes when the judging panel is downgraded. The drama plays out:

~ The impressionable models have petty fights in a house that is literally filled to the brim with misty photos of Tyra Banks.

~ One girl refuses to get naked or covered with zoo animals, or both, for which she is eliminated.

~ Tyra has bad hair at the elimination ceremony.

~ After such a rewarding experience the models cry, Tyra cries, and they fade into oblivion (which includes occasional appearances on The Tyra Banks Show).

The inclusion of Isis has earned the show praise from Giuliano who told US Weekly that he "applaud[s] Tyra Banks and The CW for making this historic visibility of transgender people possible," but I’m not so easily pleased. Giuliano’s theory holds true in the right surroundings, but it isn’t for any competition that had Janice Dickinson making judgment calls. A reality TV show won’t offer the transgendered community historical visibility, but it will offer a lump sum of money at the expense of dignity.

Alexis Arquette, David Arquette‘s sister, was among the first transgendered contestants to appear on Reality TV (with shenanigans to shame Chris Crocker). Her screaming, umbrella-heaving stint on the Surreal Life didn’t enrich America with "visibility" of the transgendered population, but it did shamelessly bump her career.

The wacky camera-hogging was at the expense of the whole LGTB community and as with most poignant shows like the Surreal Life, she embarrassed herself into temporary "novelty stardom." In Isis’s case, a modeling career could be respectfully obtained with less scripted drama outside of the ridiculous ANTM house with an actual modeling agency (and she won’t have to get naked and covered with zoo animals).

As with most of reality TV, the variable isn’t the prize, but the instant fame and negative attention. It just so happens Isis is lucky enough to be the newest — and freshest — press-seeking pawn for the ANTM franchise.

Benjamin Bradshaw B. is a fashion merchandising student who blogs at CrabbyGoLightly.com on culture, ads, and corporate monsters. You can reach him at Myspace.com/taterzz.com.

MUSIC

Heads Up: New Music To Sample This Fall

By Anna Apocalypse

Anna Apocalypse’s plugs some of the most-anticipated music for late 2008:

Cold War Kids – Loyalty to Loyalty
This Long Beach quartet captured my heart and landed the #6 spot on my top 20 albums list of 2006 with their debut, Robbers and Cowards. Culled together from their various EP’s, Robbers and Cowards made quite a strong statement, utilizing different elements from blues to soul to plain ‘ole indie-rock to create an album that was unlike any other released that year. Fast forward two years later and Cold War Kids are back with their follow-up, Loyalty To Loyalty. Will it contain shuffling percussion and singer Nathan Willet’s howling vocals? Will it touch upon such heavy topics (as Robbers And Cowards did) like religion and alcoholism? If the free track on their MySpace page is any indication, Loyalty To Loyalty will show a whole new side of Cold War Kids that fans weren’t expecting and I cannot wait for September 23rd to explore it.

The Rosebuds – Life Like
I’m always impressed by bands that release new albums so soon after their previous ones, like in this case of The Rosebuds following up 2007’s Night of the Furies with the upcoming Life Like. Night of the Furies was the soundtrack to my spring last year, with songs like “Get Up and Get Out” and “Cemetery Lawns” bursting with pop hooks, creative arrangements, and the vocal trade-off of Kelly Crisp and Ivan Howard. Although Life Like is due for release in October rather than the spring, I have no doubt that The Rosebuds will once again win me over with their perfect sense of melody and structure.

Annuals – Such Fun
Such Fun is a perfect title for the Annuals’ sophomore release, as even after touring consistently for the past two years in support of their 2006 debut, Be He Me, the six-piece North Carolina outfit still manage to look like they’re having the time of their lives at every single live show. Although Annuals have yet to give fans a sneak preview of their new songs, recent EP’s like 2007’s Frelen Mas and this year’s split with Annuals alter-ego band, Sunfold, Wet Zoo, seem to be a pretty good indicator of all the fun that will be had on October 7th.

Chad VanGaalen – Soft Airplane
Although his albums are rarely less than fifteen tracks long, I’ve always had a soft spot for Calgary’s own, Chad VanGaalen. Perhaps it’s his ability to take the simplest pop melody and open it up, making it sound brighter and bolder than any other musician could. Or maybe it’s his eccentric arrangements and penchant for combining obtuse metaphors with confessional, romanticized lyrics. But either way, it’s hard to resist the lure of VanGaalen’s excellent songwriting. Expect his newest album, Soft Airplane, to showcase VanGaalen at his most confident, taking his lo-fi charm and contrasting it against a background of pop complexity. Soft Airplane is due out on September 9th.

Mogwai – The Hawk Is Howling
Despite the ridiculous album artwork and poor title, I still have high hopes for Mogwai’s sixth full length album. Considering their strong discography and specifically 2006’s Mr. Beast, I’d say the odds are definitely not against Mogwai just yet. Although Mr. Beast only hit the #17 spot on my Top 20 list of 2006, I can still fondly recall just how great of an impact that album had on me two years ago. From the brutal “Glasgow Mega-Snake” to the tranquility of “Travel Is Dangerous,” Mogwai stretched themselves creatively and showed fans that they can do pummeling metal instrumentals and calming slow-burners without missing a beat. Expect them to stun longtime fans all over again when The Hawk Is Howling is released on September 22nd.

Anna Apocalypse, who blogs at Pop Apocalypse.Blogspot.com, will comment periodically at CrabbyGolightly.com on music.

BUSINESS

Bossman’s Edict: Watch More Porn

By SexyChattyCatty

When I’m not lounging around watching the flotsam and jetsam of reality TV, I watch porn.

I’ve seen some of the dirtiest, nastiest porn out there (oh, those Germans), just short of bestiality (which is just plain weird).

But I get paid to do it. And I watch it in the office probably a lot like yours, except we produce a porn website. Terms like watersports, anal tulip, bareback and squirt are thrown out at our weekly meetings with straight faces. Different positions, toys and bondage equipment are discussed.

Also, as in typical offices, we surf the web during the day. Do a little shopping, catch up on the latest moves by McCain and Obama, watch snippets of a video on YouTube.

Well, all that has to stop. A memo today from our boss stated that we were spending too much time surfing outside sites.

He said that we get lost in YouTube and MySpace and, like, waste time. Heavens! So all extraneous surfing is out… unless it’s another porn site.

Yes, we’ve been encouraged to view even more porn than we already watch. But I don’t think he meant “2girls1cup.”

SexyChattyCatty comments at CrabbyGolightly.com on TV, America’s favorite snack food.

TELEVISION

Who’s That Girl? Elle Says Myia Ingoldsby’s Hairstyle is Fall’s New Look

By Danielle Cadet

As far as this junk-TV junkie can tell, the only thing saving Bravo’s “Date My Ex: Jo and Slade” is Myia Ingoldsby’s hair.

Though I am repulsed by Jo De La Rosa’s shallowness and Slade Smiley’s control issues, I confess that watching the show is like gorging myself on cotton candy: I always feel sticky afterwards. I haven’t heard the word “douche-bag” (compliments of Jo’s Ari Gold-esque suitor David while describing Slade) since high school, and I have to admit it put me on a nostalgia trip.

And then there’s Myia Ingoldsby, Jo’s so called “best friend,” a.k.a. random girl who just happens to be British, poised, and available enough to host her “friend’s” dating show.

Although I can’t help but wonder where the hell she came from, Ingoldsby does have one redeeming factor — her hair. According to fashion handbook Elle, Myia’s thick cut bangs are one of fall 2008’s top 10 “it hairstyles.” (Or is this some bored editorial writer’s idea of a practical joke on the public?)

Her locks are also bleached enough for her to fit in with the best of LA’s “real fake” blonde, tan, and big-breasted women. You never really know how her hair will be styled when she steps onto the screen: pin straight, curly, bun, braids? But you can always count on her signature thick bangs that barely reveal her eyes.

Do I smell “spin-off”? Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Danielle Cadet is a student at the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University who likes to write about fashion and pop culture catastrophes.

POLITICS

Here’s A Fix For Rush Limbaugh’s Oral Depravation

By Elizabeth C.

RUSH LIMBAUGH KNOWS SOMETHING ABOUT ORAL FIXATIONS.

The $400 million dollar man just can’t help himself. A quick glance backwards reveals Rush’s compulsion to stuff his mouth. The first piece of evidence is that he was a "big fat idiot," emphasis on the big and fat for just this minute.

The radio kingpin slimmed down after comedian Al Franken called Rush "fat" in the title of his 1996 antidote to Rush’s verbal poison, the kind that causes knee-jerking.

The second, most obvious piece of evidence that he was deprived during what Freud called the "oral stage" is that he can’t shut up. Limbaugh has been polluting the airwaves since 1988 when his nationally-syndicated radio talk show first aired.

Interestingly, Freud concluded that those deprived during the oral stage may be preoccupied "with oral activities. This type of personality may have a stronger tendency to smoke, drink alcohol, overeat, or bite his or her nails. Personality wise, these individuals may become overly dependent upon others…On the other hand, they may also fight these urges and develop pessimism and aggression toward others."

Let’s see now, Rush goes weak-kneed for Republicans, smokes cigars, gorged himself on food for decades, is the dictionary’s face of venom, and doctor-shopped to keep himself supplied with prescription painkillers. (I haven’t checked his nails.) If he walked into a shrink’s office, that would add up to a lot of clues for diagnosis.

But the most recent evidence of his flawed personality is his innuendo that Elizabeth Edwards should have talked less and given husband John Edwards more blow jobs to prevent him from straying with his baby momma, Rielle Hunter.

"We know — we’ve been told that Elizabeth Edwards is smarter than John Edwards,” Limbaugh said on his radio show. "That’s part of the puff pieces on them that we’ve seen. Ergo, if Elizabeth Edwards is smarter than John Edwards, is it likely that she thinks she knows better than he does what his speeches ought to contain and what kind of things he ought to be doing strategy-wise in the campaign? If she is smarter than he is, could it have been her decision to keep going with the campaign? In other words, could it be that she doesn’t shut up?" He continues on to say that Edwards’ "found somebody that did something with her mouth other than talk."

But do you see how he builds on crazy in one "ergo" false statement after another? Yep, that’s a symptom. Rush is mental.

Or maybe he’s jealous because he could never land a lady like Elizabeth, pretty and smart with a law degree. His three ex-wives? Choose your favorite between the secretary, the usherette, or the aerobics instructor.

What weren’t you doing, Rush, that made all three of them leave you? Maybe none of them could give you what you really wanted. To which I say, put a dick in it.

FILM

Oliver Stone Has Lost His Mind

By M-Tron

OLIVER STONE IS TRYING MY PATIENCE.

You can only eat McDonald’s so many times before you throw up all over yourself. And you can only sit through so many awful movies before you become desensitized to cinema that’s actually important.

What lingering indigestion I had from 2007’s onslaught of cinematic greasy spoons was turned into a full-blown ulcer when spring 2008’s Chinese buffet rolled into town. M. Night Shyamalan served up my first piping hot mouthful of processed gray animal matter with The Happening, which I washed down with a melting Oreo McFlurry disguised as the Saw V theatrical trailer. And now comes Stone’s W.

I have abandoned all hope.

Before even thinking about W, it is necessary to divide Oliver Stone’s career into two parts: respectable and not important.

His notable films Platoon, JFK, Natural Born Killers, and Nixon are from Stone’s halcyon days. While I can’t seem to rewatch any of these, they’re not altogether unpleasant; though historically inaccurate, there’s sick pleasure in being in the courtroom as Kevin Costner guides us through the grainy Zapruder footage. You want those sneaky government bastards to pay, because for all his bringing the world this much closer to Armageddon, deep down we all liked Jack Kennedy, damnit.

With Nixon – which I actually haven’t seen – you have a figure so vile that the movie writes itself. Add Anthony Hopkins and it’s not really surprising when you’re thanking the Oscar committee for a fifteenth nomination of your cinematic achievements.

In 1996, with his career firmly established, Stone could have gazed back at the Age of Respectability with pride, content with his considerable talent as a writer and director. But he didn’t. And now we’re dealing with his mess. Leaving credibility and good taste behind, Stone dove head first into the many mistakes that marked his Age of Unimportance. 1997’s U Turn, which I rented as a kid because the trailer promised a then-attractive Jennifer Lopez in a steamy love scene with Sean Penn – retrospectively a disgusting, even unholy coupling – was forgettable at best. Besides a grizzled Nick Nolte playing himself, there was little to take away from the dull tumbleweed thriller.

Then Stone decided to try his hand at a sports movie, and what we got was 1999’s Any Given Sunday. Though by no means as bad as what lay ahead, half of this film is Al Pacino screaming blitz formations into his boom mic. The other half is Jamie Foxx trying to act. None of it is important.

Going into hiding for five years, Stone reemerged with his Frankenstein monster, 2004’s Alexander. Lasting three hours, Alexander the “Final Unrated Cut,” is what you’d expect if the History Channel decided to make an overwrought six part miniseries for non-humanities majors.

But you can’t give up on the guy who brought us Platoon for Christ’s sake. Not yet, anyway. I was willing to forgive flops like U Turn and moneymakers like Alexander because Stone was a comparatively respectable man. At a time when Bruckheimer, Bay and Emmerich reigned supreme for fueling idiots with overblown summer blockbusters, Stone stood as the old guard; a knight-errant fallen from grace, but noble nonetheless.

World Trade Center destroyed that image. Shattering the glass floor separating the miserable second half of Oliver Stone’s career from oblivion, this crass recreation of September 11, 2001 plunged him forever into the murky depths of worthless genre pieces; he landed in the layer of hell just above the creators of Disaster Movie and Bum Fights. The tag line says it all: "Glorifies that which is best in the American spirit." It’s telling that Nicolas Cage and his gang of back lot B-actors running wide-eyed through smoldering CGI rubble for two hours exemplifies the best of our cultural values. In terms of disregard for basic human dignity, World Trade Center is only slightly better than an episode of True Life.

World Trade Center marked the end of Stage II, Stone’s laughably bad phase, and announced with thundering cannons his dangerous penultimate demise. But it would take something even more disgustingly self important to complete the transformation into UltimoStone. Something so stupid that its component parts were not included in the mathematical set of all possible combinations of cosmic matter. Something so absurdly over the top that it became sentient and perceived its own embarrassing existence. It would take something like Oliver Stone’s final testament, W, to see him through to his full-throttle, straight to the fucking moon endgame.

M-Tron writes regularly about movies at Manpants. Among his favorite films are Bottle Rocket, Saving Private Ryan, and The Big Lebowski .

SCIENCE/FICTION

Monster Mania! ‘Big Foot’ Promoters Promise To Unveil Mythical Creature’s DNA, Video, Pictures

By Elizabeth C.

THIS NEWS JUST MIGHT LEAD TO THE MONTAUK MONSTER FINALLY GETTING BURIED. BIGFOOT IS BACK.

Bigfoot, a hairy ape-like hominoid whose very existence is questioned by cryptozoologists, has been seen most frequently in the Northwest U.S. and Canada. The creature was most recently spotted in Ontario by two women who were berrypicking. The beast, also known as Sasquatch, has been reported in hundreds of sightings worldwide, but Wikipedia says that "most scientific experts on the matter consider the Bigfoot legend to be a combination of folklore and hoaxes."

Now, two Georgia men say they have a corpse of the species in a freezer somewhere near Atlanta. And today, Rick Dyer and Matthew Whitton, who operate "BigFoot" tours and a website at Bigfoottracker.com, will hold a press conference in Palos Altos, Calif., during which they promise to reveal DNA, video clips and photographs of their hairy find. The two contend they found the beast in Georgia’s north woods.

"It was very frightening at first," Rick Dyer told The New York Times. “There’s a lot of comment being made that it looks fake, or it looks like a suit. But these people wasn’t there when I was sweating, pulling this thing through the woods.”

The two Georgians have the backing of Tom Biscardi, founder of the Great American Bigfoot Research Organization. In 2005, Biscardi claimed his group had captured a Bigfoot that weighed over 400 pounds and stood 8-feet tall, but the claim turned out to be a hoax.

Crabby speculates that this latest discovery might have something to do with the million dollar reward offered in June by binocular manufacturer Bushnell and Field & Stream magazine. The two companies offered the joint reward to anyone who can "provide an unaltered photograph/video, verified and substantiated by a panel of scientific experts [including a zoologist and biologist], the evidence required to prove a Sasquatch/Bigfoot/Yeti exists."

But as LiveScience‘s "bad science columnist" points out, "This is, of course, a marketing promotion and not a genuine search for Bigfoot. There’s no way to authenticate a Bigfoot photograph by itself; the image is simply a two-dimensional pattern of pixels. To truly prove a Bigfoot exists, you’d need corroborating hard evidence like a body, teeth, or bones."

Crabby predicts that today we will definitively learn one thing: where we can buy"Bigfoot for President" t-shirts.