I was watching the colossal cult classic ‘Head’ starring the Monkees on Turner Classic Movies the other night, and found myself getting in one of my typical mega-funks over the current state of what passes for culture nowadays. Around the time ‘Head’ was made, the Monkees popularity had nosedived over the fact that they didn’t play their own instruments and the revelation that they’d essentially been a concept borne from the noggin of director Bob Rafelson in order to cash in on some that rock’n’roll action that the kids seemed to be digging so well.

Despite their pre-fabricated origins, the Monkees were pretty damned great. They were charming, bright, funny, and they could sing their asses off. They became an instant smash with TV audiences and sold millions of records. Funny thing was, they became dissatisfied with being forced to record other people’s songs and the cartoonish image that Rafelson and the network machinery had carefully constructed for them. Ultimately they rebelled against these constraints, and things began to fall apart. When it was finally leaked to the public that they were in fact merely a concept and not a ‘real band’ their fate was sealed.

As a response to all of this, they made ‘Head’; an abstract, trippy commentary on the nature of conceptual reality and their struggle to be taken seriously as real artists while fighting to break free of their scripted identities. Written by Bob Rafelson and a then unknown Jack Nicholson, ‘Head’ is filled with amazing music and strange surrealistic vignettes which utilized war imagery as metaphor for the crass commercialism of the day while cleverly busting through the 4^th wall time and again – nearly a decade before Woody Allen was praised for it in ‘Annie Hall’. It’s a fantastic film, and it was the final nail in their coffin.

Unfortunately, they wound up totally alienating their core TV audience, and failed to pick up any of the ‘artsier’ crowd they were hoping to convert.

All I could think about while watching ‘Head’ was how something like it could never happen today. Could you imagine some pre-fabricated tweeny-bopper ‘band’ like One Direction rebelling against the constraints of their machinery and releasing a subversive art-house movie in order to smash their well-constructed and lucrative image to smithereens in the hope that they’d be taken seriously as artists? Sure, you often see transitioning tartlets like Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez sex it up  in order to garner an older audience, but that’s about sex…not art.

Thing is, craven machinations are something to be celebrated nowadays. No one gives a rat’s ass whether or not One Direction knows how to play their instruments, or whether they write or even sing their songs. Their meticulously crafted image is taken at face value and their commercial success is lauded. Try making a nasty remark about them – or any well-known celebrity of their ilk – on Twitter and the most likely response you’d receive from their fans would be something along the lines of, “You’re just a hater because they’re so popular and they sell so many albums, and you’re just a big fat loser and you’ll never be as rich and fabulous as they are.”

Pretty much guarantee you’ll never hear anything about art.

This leads to the question, “Where has the art gone in our art?”

Sad to say it’s nowhere to be found. Today’s starry-eyed tweeners aspire to become scripted. They dream to someday become unreal. They’d sell their souls to sell their souls.

Fortunately for me however, there’s more than enough art in the archives to keep me fortified until I croak. As long as there are stations like Turner Classic Movies for fogies like me, the sad state of what passes for culture nowadays will have absolutely no effect on me. I’ll just hunker down in my societal fallout shelter, with my vinyl records, old movies and a bottle of scotch, and keep the faintest glimmer of hope curling and dancing in the recesses of my mind that perhaps someday the paradigm will shift once again, and free will might once again rule the world.

According to a new TMZ report, Justin Bieber’s inability to keep his bodily fluids to himself may land him in some hot loogie. After a recent tantrum in which the pop idol got so cranky that he spit up at his neighbor’s suggestion that he refrain from speeding in a cul-de-sac, the L.A County Sherrif’s Dept. will now most likely recommend that criminal battery charges be filed against the dyspeptic, droopy drawer-d, dipwad.

Reportedly, the 19-going-on-three-year-old took his Ferrari for a spin around the neighborhood at over 100mph and when his irate neighbor dared to step toe on Bieber’s property to complain, the wink-y, lip licking warbler cried out, “Get the f*ck out of here, I’m going to f***ing kill you!” and then promptly expectorated on the poor man.

Officially, no recommendation has been made yet, as the investigation is not finished, however, sources are spilling that Bieber’s salivary escapade is part of a larger picture that has emerged in the past few months concerning the singer’s all-around douche-tastic behavior, and the Sherriff sincerely feels he needs to be spanked repeatedly with a ladle of medium to heavy weight until he promises to be a good boy.

Now, I’m not even going to comment on the fact that I’m decidedly perplexed that this nozzle de douche’s popularity amongst the teenage throngs continues to rage on unabated, because…well…I’m not the target audience – I know this ok! In fact I haven’t been for decades…hell I don’t think I’ve ever been. So, although I personally believe that the white noise that this dim-witted drip blarrts out of his rectum is the auditory equivalent to contemplating the cobwebs in the corners of your ceiling at 3:47 am whilst battling a severe case of cholera induced constipation, I will relent that perhaps to some pea-brained, know-nothing tweener, his music – such as it is – might come off as pleasingly peppy. So no, I’m not going to comment on his talent – or lack thereof.

I will say this though…

…PULL UP YOUR GODDAMNED PANTS NUMB-NUTZ!!

Between this nimrod’s perpetually pained facial expressions and those MC hammer genie slacks he’s got bunched around his ankles 24/7, he looks like he’s in a constant state of strenuous defecation. Seriously… how can he not realize how utterly ridiculous he looks?

Give it up already you pompadour-ed putz!

Oh yeah… and stop spitting, it’s a dirty habit.

 Seems like Kanye and Kim are truly made for each other! According to Radaronline a steamy sex tape involving the talented rap artist and a sultry Kim look-alike has made its way onto the scene. Shot just before the famous duo got together, the tape is approximately 20 minutes in length, and features the rapper getting busy with the Kardashian doppelganger in a host of positions,

“In my expert opinion Kanye’s performance far outweighs Kim’s,” claims a San Fernando sex industry insider.

Of course, that wouldn’t be hard to believe for anyone who’s ever watched the porcine rumped reality star’s mechanical – and irritatingly whiny – romp with her former lover Ray J.

Yeezy supposedly isn’t too pleased with the imminent release of his filmed sexcapade and according to the insider was “practically in tears when he heard the tape was being shopped”.

Personally, I doubt it. In fact, I’m sure he’s been dying to put this out in the open for a number of reasons. A) It would somehow mitigate Kim’s tape and even out the score B) He probably wants to show the world how well he can get down and C) He’s a hopeless fame-whore.

Making the story even stranger – and more disturbing – is the fact that the girl he’s shlang-a-rangin’ is only 18 and MARRIED. She states this matter-of-factly in the beginning, opining, “My husband and I don’t have sex anymore… that’s why I’m here!”

The down and dirty proceedings are reportedly devoid of emotion, as the f-buddies do their thang with nary a kiss – on the lips at least.

If this tape does hit the market, I predict it’ll be even bigger than Kim’s, if only for the fact that the guy’s a veritable A-level star, with actual you know – talent.

“There are 47 percent of the people who will vote for the president no matter what. All right, there are 47 percent who are with him, who are dependent upon government, who believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you-name-it. That that’s an entitlement. And the government should give it to them. And they will vote for this president no matter what….These are people who pay no income tax.”

-Mitt Romney

It’s time to wind up the masquerade
Just make your mind up; the piper must be paid
The party’s over
It’s all over, my friend….

If the Romney Campaign ever has a requiem, that will be it. 

Strike the stage. Fold up the tent. Close the doors. Turn out the lights. There will be no encore. There will be no final bows. There will be no curtain call. The reviews are in and they’re all bad. This show died during the out-of-town tryouts. It won’t be opening on Broadway. It won’t be opening off Broadway. It won’t be going on the road. It won’t be going anywhere. This show is closing. It’s over. It’s finished. Finis. Adios. Arrivederci. Auf wiedersehen.  Au Revoir. Kaput. KABOOM!

Can I be any clearer?

MEMO TO THE PREZ: Don’t waste your precious time on the campaign trail. Why bother? Mitt Romney lost the election yesterday. His fate is sealed. If – after all this – the American people decide to send him to the White House, our reputation as the international laughingstock will be sealed. There are forty-six days between now and the election. That is a lifetime in politics as they never tire of reminding us, but I just can’t see how Romney is going to get out of this one. The only thing that may save him is a scandal in the Obama camp so vile that the electorate will flee en masse. That could very well happen. The Republicans are quite adept at creating scandals out of thin air – as Bill Clinton found out much to his eternal chagrin.

MEMO TO MITT: The little eight-year-old girl who skips over to the corner candy store to buy an Almond Joy candy bar pays taxes. Everyone pays taxes. Some pay too much. Others (like you, Mitt) not enough. That’s your civics lesson for the day, Mitt. You could use a lot of them.

Here’s the funny thing! When one contemplates the complete and utter devolution of the Republican party in the last fifty years. it is instructive to remember this: As hideously incompetent as Mitt Romney is, of all the nitwits and kooks who sought the nomination during the primaries – he was the best of the bunch; the cream of the crop! That is a party that that has found itself rotting at the bottom of the ideological sewer. They should never again be trusted by reasonable and enlightened people with the governance of our nation. I’m just sayin’.

When the video surfaced of Mitt’s little “chat” with a closed audience of plutocratic investors, I couldn’t help but wonder if the man has been paying attention to the developments in video technology that have been going on in recent years. Fifty-two years ago during the campaign of 1960, when Jack Kennedy or Dick Nixon spoke at a private fundraiser, it’s a pretty safe bet that they knew those events would be “closed” They would have easily been able to spot any recording device. Back in the day it was not possible to hide a television or film camera. Some of them weighed so much that they were nicknamed “the thousand pound pencils”. Even an audio tape recorder was a bulky, cumbersome affair. Today a video camera can literally fit into one’s shirt pocket. Mitt Romney has had nearly a decade to absorb this new reality. What is the matter with him? Is it ignorance? Is it arrogance? Yo, Mitt! What gives?

FUN FACT: The video that has stirred up so much controversy and will probably, more than anything, end up costing Romney the presidency, was made public by David Corn of Mother Jones magazine. It was given to him by James Earl Carter IV – the grandson of Jimmy Carter. Aren’t politics fun?

Here is the corner they’ve painted themselves into: In order to win the nomination, a Republican candidate has to say and do a lot of really stupid things. That’s been the case for the last half century. The problem is the fact that the party has become so extreme during that period, once nominated, the candidate no longer has the luxury (as he once had) of veering back toward the center during the general election – or even the center-right for that matter. If he does, he looses the base. If he doesn’t he’s lost damned-near everyone else. The “party of Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln” has become, I believe, virtually unelectable. Isn’t life beautiful?

_________________________

TOM DEGAN is a video artist who in 2006 became so thoroughly disgusted at the state of America’s national political dialogue, he decided to take time off to become a freaking civics teacher. When you’re not reading him here, check out his awesome blog “The Rant”

Lana Del Rey seems to have rebounded from her critically panned album quite nicely, recently scoring a high profile gig with H&M as well as being named GQ UK’s woman of the year. How this bobblehead has managed to extend her 15 minutes is well beyond me, but I must admit I’m impressed with her management.

Her new commercial for the bargain-priced hipster clothier tips a cap to David Lynch, as it features a lethargic Del Ray crooning ‘Blue Velvet’ and an angry midget thrown in for good measure. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a big admirer of the master director, but referencing ‘Twin Peaks’ to appear artsy is more than a tad out of touch. The expiration date’s way long past due as far as the weirdness factor is concerned. Besides, watching an episode of ‘Here Comes Honey Boo Boo’ is far more surreal and exponentially more disturbing.

What is it with this Del Rey chick anyway? Is she a singer, a model a wannabe actress? I suppose these distinctions no longer matter nowadays. For the time being she’s achieved her goal – fame…fame at all costs for little Lizzy Grant.

Physically she reminds me of a young Karen Black. She’s got that same cross-eyed, dazed and confused look about her. Of course Black actually had some acting ability; Del Rey just seems to be another dead trout hurled upon the bow of our social consciousness by a rich daddy and a savvy management team.

I suppose the fact that she’s not a completely insufferable Kardashian level cipher makes her a veritable artiste by today’s standards.

Seems pretty apparent that crap star Nicki Minaj has recently downsized her famous mudflaps, possibly due to her brand new appointment as American Idol’s latest judge. I can’t believe it…I simply can’t believe it…

…that friggin’ show’s still on?

Media Take Out’s got some compelling before and after shots of the muppet haired warbler’s derriere and it’s obvious that she’s sucked out whatever flubbertywudget she’d had injected into her rump. The before shot looks like she’s wearing 10 pairs of adult diapers on under her tights and now, she’s just got an average sized plumpy dumper.

Why she felt it necessary to inflate her back side to the size of a medium sized garbage truck is beyond me in the first place. I mean, I know ginormous, juicy, bootay is a proclivity of the brothas, but still when your boom boom has so much mass that it acquires gravitational pull…well…it’s a tad too much in my humble opinion.

Jeez, I gotta say this twit irritates me to no end.  Her ‘wacky’ accents and calculatedly ‘risque’ lyrics make me wanna take a brown dump in her green hair. Now, she’ll be foisted on the public consciousness tenfold, with her new stint on Idol.  Woe is me. Apparently I’m not the only one who despises the girl, it’s being widely reported that Mariah Carey shares my distaste for her as well. 

Hmm… maybe I’ll actually tune in this season to check out the diva-astic tension. 

It’s disgraceful that the Obama administration’s first response was not to condemn attacks on our diplomatic missions, but to sympathize with those who waged the attacks.”

 -Mitt Romney 

If a more utterly perfect reason not to send this fool to the White House was needed, it was generously provided to us last week - gift wrapped – by Mitt Romney himself!

Incredibly, der Mittster was responding to a statement he claimed was made by the Obama administration responding to the terror attacks on the US embassies in Egypt and Libya. Only it wasn’t made by the administration. It was made by the embassy in Cairo – and they weren’t responding to the attacks. The statement was made hours before. They were responding to an incendiary video that was produced by some half-witted extremist in the United States that has the Arab world in an uproar. Mitt must have known that he was inflaming an already dangerous situation. And if he was unaware of what he was doing, he (and the people he surrounds himself with) are too incompetently idiotic to be trusted by reasonable people with the responsibilities of the chief executive. 

The “foreign policy advisers” that Romney has surrounded himself with are the same neocon freaks that plunged this country into an unnecessary, nine year war when it invaded the (like it or not) sovereign nation of Iraq. Seventeen out of twenty-four of them were part of the Bush Mob. These same people are now rattling their sabers, drooling for us to go to war with Iran. Since I assume most of us have the capacity of 20/20 hindsight, the question needs to be asked:

Do we really want to go down this road again?

There are people out there who would sent this country into the abyss rather than reelect an African American to the most powerful office in the world. There is no denying it. I see it every day in my personal interactions. A significant minority of his fellow Americans despise the president of the United States for no other reason than the color of his skin. They may not be telling the pollsters this, but it’s the truth. We have to face the unvarnished reality, unpleasant as that reality may be. We can only beg our bigoted brethren that on Election Day, they check their racism at the town hall door. Not that that’s gonna happen.

 _________________________

 TOM DEGAN is a video artist who in 2006 became so thoroughly disgusted at the state of America’s national political dialogue, he decided to take time off to become a freaking civics teacher. When you’re not reading him here, check out his awesome blog “The Rant”

Glory be, all is right with the world, as Twi-tards R-patz and Twitchy Stewart have apparently put their painful recent past aside, mended their shattered amour and gotten back together – at least according to that paragon of periodical integrity – the UK Sun. Their inside ‘sources’ claim that Pattinson has forgiven his beloved’s tramp-ish ways after having an intense heart-to-heart (cough…negotiation…cough) and they’ve moved back in with each other in the same Los Angeles compound where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have a place. What’s more they will be walking the red carpet together for the latest Twi-crud installment.

“Rob sees it as Kristen made a really stupid mistake,” stated the ‘source’. “After a lot of long tearful talks, they’ve worked it out and Rob can see how truly sorry Kristen is and has totally forgiven her.”

“They really do love each other,” added the informant.

Personally, I don’t see this as a plus for Lip-bitey McGee. She’s done pretty well for herself post-Twilight, with that crap-tastic, yet unfathomably successful Snow White flick. Moreover, she’s getting decent reviews for her turn in the new movie On The Road. Pattinson on the other hand hasn’t done nearly as well, with a string of stinkeroos that have badly tarnished his reputation as box-office gold. My opinion is, if indeed he has taken his wayward dandelion back, it’s solely a calculated PR move. In other words, he needs her more than she needs him.

Besides, I don’t really see why so much animus has been hurled at Hunchy Mc Scrunchy, So she dallied with her director…so what? In Babylonian Hollywood, a brief diddle, followed by a tearful public apology is downright quaint. I can only imagine what most of these actors are doing in their private times. Probably some De Sade-ian fever dream, thickly coated in blow, lube, and Lindsay Lohan’s menstrual blood.   

Out of the myriad of obsessions I find irritating in what passes for popular culture nowadays, the whole celebrity ‘sideboob’ fascination irks me in particular. In a world literally inundated with hard core sexual imagery, the fact that people still feel the urge to titter – pardon the pun – over a sideways tranche of melon, solely based on some sort of fame-fetishist mentality makes me want to go out the window.

Just take a swing by the Huffington Post and you’ll see my point brought into sharp relief. After reading the headline stories on the chaos taking place in 11 Arab countries, and a couple of election-related pieces, you’ll soon find the breaking news – EMMA WATSON FLASHES SIDEBOOB!

The most read post in the bunch.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like pretty girls, and I like boobs, but even I must admit that there are more important things taking place around the globe then Emma Watson’s bee-stung tatas. Still, I suppose you gotta give the people what they want.

This week has been particularly sideboobtastic, which I suppose prompted me to write this little blurb. Aside from the comely Harry Potter star, I’ve read racktacular updates on Miley Cyrus, Rihanna and Lady Gaga. If there’s a celebrity out there standing askance with a bit of flesh peeking, there’ll surely be a camera to capture the moment, and some blogger with a 6^th grade book-report level of talent to report on it.

Sideboob…jeez. Even the term itself chafes my scrotum – and not in a good way. First off, it was first popularized in some lame episode of Family Guy and second off, it’s just so jejune. I’d go with something like – FLOCKING FUNBAG or maybe LATERAL BAZOOMBA…you know something with a bit of class.

The thing is, I never even see any sideboobs worth all this bruhahooey. It’s either some unimpressive, livery slab of flubberty flesh from the likes of Lady Gaga or some coltish starlet with barely enough boob to even peer out in ancillary fashion.

It never surprises me what passes for conversation nowadays.