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When I were a lass, film premieres didn’t really exist.
I’m kind of glad they didn’t, too. I can’t help but feel the lure of the original three Star Wars films, which has remained constant throughout my life, was augmented by the inflexibility of the stories and the character roles. They existed within the films, and my job was to recreate them as faithfully as possible within the constraints of a deep pile bedroom carpet.
Continue reading “Star Wars: Go home, Trooper. You’re drunk”
Opening an article about idols by declaring that I personally don’t believe in idols feels like one of those trite writing devices I spend much of my time bitching about.
Continue reading “Shirley Manson: The Icon Madonna Could Have Been”
Gawker there, proving that even in these dark times of journalistic over-simplification, it still possible to clarify too much.
Next time we do one of those time capsule things, let’s not waste time with DNA, classical element samples and blood from random passers-by.
Just wrestle these two to the ground, chop off the bottom seven inches of their beards and fire them into space.
I highly doubt there is much of humanity worth documenting that hasn’t been captured in those masses of hair during in the forty-six years ZZ Top have been operating.
I’m putting this here.
I don’t want anyone who knows me – whether in real life, via social media or even just as a distant shape in cyberspace – to say they haven’t heard about this or haven’t had the opportunity to watch it.
If you choose not to watch it, that’s fine. That choice is part of the wider principle that Jon Stewart is articulating in this monologue and one I will defend to the best of my abilities.
Be proactive. Or reactive. Think about it first.
Make it a conscious decision to do jackshit.
I was obsessed with the Titanic when I was a kid.
I had a hardback book about it, passages of which I could recite verbatim, and a National Geographic video of Robert Ballard’s 1985 expedition to locate the wreck, which I watched until the modern day footage was as grainy as the images they took from the bottom of the Atlantic.
Suffice to say, after the novelty of a seven-year-old babbling on about impact zones, deep sea pressure changes and steel corrosion had worn off, my parents started locking me in my bedroom when we had guests.
Continue reading “‘Drain the Titanic’: A Sentimental Journey Through The Darkest Depths”
You’d imagine that Kathleen Hanna, founding member of the riot-grrl movement, ardent feminist and lead singer of ground breaking bands such as Bikini Kill, Le Tigre and The Julie Ruin would have little time for Miley Cyrus.
After all, isn’t Cyrus the antithesis of all that Hanna stands for? Living proof that the world at large has considered her message and summarily rejected it, preferring to keep its female pop stars constrained by the twin shackles of sexual availability and the male gaze?
Continue reading “Kathleen Hanna & Miley Cyrus: Breaking The Chain”
In this extract from Roald Dahl’s excellent ‘Matilda’, the young protagonist patiently explains to a friend that a teacher’s genius lies in hiding her nefarious and abusive activities in plain sight.
And if you reckon “the headmistress grabbed me by the hair and slung me over the playground fence,” would be a tough sell, try “Rolf Harris groped me when I asked him for an autograph.”
That’s how they got away with it. Right there.