Why Your Daughters Should Admire Lady GaGa

When I first heard of this alleged "Lady", an adjective used to describe "Gaga", I assumed this songstress was a transvestite that had somehow made in the big time. I assumed this because of the overtly femme name as well as a very strong and robust, albeit quality, vocal tone.

I don't pay much attention to pop culture. I would normally never condone the emulation, mental absorption, or other learning about any celebrity whatsoever. For the most part they are self-absorbed, already rich, cancer that is killing society. Nevertheless, to keep all of this nonsense in check, I read Perez Hilton and the Superficial every day. I read these celebretard e-zines because, well, they're crass and they provide me with a slight bit of information. I read them for the jokes, I don't really care which proper names are used in each joke, just that the joke is good. And they always are. Whether it's a cock drawn on the face of some entitled financial pariah, or a blog that has such a fabulous sense of humor that it doesn't mind posting nothing but D-list models in bikinis over and over again.

So this is why I had never heard of the entity and person that is Lady Gaga. I had only heard of vague mentions of her in between jokes about other celebrities. Then, Perez Hilton posted the completely cinematically enhanced "Paparazzi" video.

I watched it, slightly irritated by how serious it was. I scoffed, "this is her third single, who the hell does she think she is, pulling this November Rain shit, ugh."

Then something about her intrigued me and I hit the Wikipedia to learn more. It seemed that there must be more than met my eye, I could smell...hmm...maybe...smarts. God dammit. I was impressed by what I learned.

Let's hit the surface level information first: Lady Gaga may be a semi-sex symbol, she has to be a little bit, in order to sell records (unfortunately not everyone waits 40 years to become Susan Boyle). However, there are some imperfections about her that are incredibly charming. She looks like a real girl that is playing dress up. Not a girl who was never real at all. While most female sex symbols' noses are marble sized ski jumps, hers is distinctly shaped and clearly a genetic reference to her Italian heritage. I'll be very upset if she ever changes this. Somehow I doubt she will.

And what of her beginnings? Yes, she did drugs. Of course you don't want your daughter thinking that this is the way to go about success, however, drugs are one of those things that when done at the appropriate time in one's life can either add character or destroy you. For Lady Gaga, it added character. She was performing at burlesque shows and singing in New York. However, prior to this, she was attending Juilliard and Tisch. Why? Because she's a god damned genius. We all know that Juilliard does not accept many students and it is extremely expensive to go there. However, Tisch accepts roughly twenty students per year. Lady Gaga was accepted at age 17. She studied not only music but art, religion, and socio-political order. She was born to be an activist through her medium. She was discovered by LA Reid whilst singing down the hall from his office, the reason is unknown. She was signed but then dropped three months later. She tried and tried again.

But alas, she wasn't signed for some time. She was writing songs for the likes of Akon, Britney Spears (who lacks the similar talent and work ethic that I am describing here), and Fergie (also, lacking the similar talent). She was actually working.

Approximately a year later, thanks to Perez Hilton, she jumped on a fucking NASA made rocket to stardom.

My fiance and I were having drinks with a friend of ours, a fellow successful musician, and Lady Gaga came up. He dismissed her, "she's a whack job."

"NO!" I was immediately defensive of my newfound hero, but then forced to describe why I felt so defensive of her. "She's great! She's a damned genius!"

As is my motto of life, I cannot offer an opinion without subsequently describing why I hold such an opinion.

"Do you understand what she's doing? With her clothing? With her style? She actually writes her own songs!"

He clearly didn't understand, and at that moment, in my slight buzz, I absolutely knew what it was.

"She's fucking with you! She's being a person, a person with actual knowledge and talent, not a singing-head and industry whore. She dresses like she does to make you ask that question 'what the fuck'?" She wore lace/gauze around her face at the MTV Video Music Awards this year because she wanted to symbolize that her face isn't important. She wore a huge distracting feather helmet (I guess?) because, again, she doesn't want her face to be the thing that is important. She is a muse, she is a message, and she has never let a man dumb her down.

The dumbing down and usage of women is clearly prevalent in Hollywood. Women that are a brand, that are a product, that sing, model, act, and do nothing to distribute or communicate their thoughts are everywhere. They are a dime a dozen. Lady Gaga is an experiment in mass psychology. She's testing all of us and making sure that people can appreciate she is an artist and not just a singing-headed woman that is hot. If we can all be convinced that she is as smart as she is, then we haven't been distracted by her body. We have been convinced by her creative strategy and her mission - the things she developed with her mind.

Church of Scientology Guilty of Fraud in France

France, I was really excited for you.

France, you had so much hope glistening in your judicial eye.

France, of all the things you gave us - philosophy, Braille, the stethoscope, and the totally bitchin' gyroscope, something for republicans to project their discontent at from 2002 - 2008 - you couldn't give us the dissolution of the Church of Scientology. For shame.

France, you had such hope and now, well, I am only semi-disappointed in you because you did have a minor success with this whole bit.

On Tuesday, October 27th, France found the Church of Scientology guilty of fraud and fined in 500 million Euros.

In May, it was widely discussed that the prosecution was seeking the dissolution of the Church. While France currently does not regard Scientology as a religion, this would have meant that it's status would likely join the ranks of a "cult". In the following nations, the Church of Scientology is not regarded as a religion at all:

* Belgium
* Germany
* France
* Greece (though there is no formal mechanism that allows an institution to be classified as a religion in Greece)
* Kazakhstan
* Russia
* Switzerland
* United Kingdom

France's reason for not attempting to disband the Church of Scientology completely is rather lazy and appalling: "they would likely continue their activities anyway, 'outside any legal framework.'"

And while we're at it, let's all just make not paying taxes legal because, let's face it - it's going to happen anyway. This smells like bullshit to me.

Not mentioned in the MSNBC report on this case is an alleged law passed on May 12th that prevents a judge from ordering the dissolution of an organization found guilty of fraud. This measure, if it does exist, was supposedly carefully buried in a stack of other legislation that was unrelated. Sounds suspiciously like the American way, we call it "pork". I was able to find some info on this through some rather intense Googling.

The Church of Scientology is notorious for being underhanded and buying off individuals who have power. This means lawyers, celebrities, and government officials. They are so good at this because its members are everywhere and its members are a big profit generator. It's members have jobs that are beneficial to it, it's members commandeer entire industries that hold power - like Hollywood.

I'm hesitant to take this morsel of a sneaky sneak of a law from the netherregions of the internet as gospel. I realize I operate a small time blog full of complaining, cursing, and generally irreverent commentary. However, when it comes to something as serious as the dissolution of a Church that is clearly a financially greedy organization - I would like to get my facts as correct as possible.

Suppose it is true. Suppose for a moment that legislation wasn't bought and sold but it was slipped in by the nearly invisible hand of a fellow CoS member? What of the legal system then? What of the judge's ruling that they'd operate as they pleased no matter what? The 500 million Euro fine is mere slap on the hand for an organization that is 8 million strong. Each member is worth tens of thousands - if not hundreds of thousands of dollars over a lifetime of membership. Though being dissolved, that's worth much more.

Weed: Shall ye be California's savior?

When I was in macroeconomics class in college, I was a bit of a teacher's pet. Oh how I loved guns and butter, supply and demand, elasticity, inelasticity and public policy. This lead to many after-class conversations about such concepts as marijuana legalization.

My professor was a worldly, wise, and not afraid to crack a nasty joke in class. My god...this class was everything I loved. I miss it.

One day, after class, I walked with my professor to her office. I asked her, "what do you think would happen if marijuana was legalized?"

"It doesn't matter what your political and philosophical opinion of it is, the bottom line is that if it were regulated it could then be subject to a special tax, like cigarettes. It would be a huge source of income for the government."

At the time, I was a conservative little pisher. So I wanted to disagree with this, but it made so much sense that I couldn't no matter how hard I tried to spin my mental wheels.

She was a touch before her time. She just needed a little visible hand of Obama to get her idea off the ground.

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Have you ever been inside a "medicinal marijuana dispensary"?

In California, it's hardly an illegal-looking operation. It's not on par with illegal abortions, sketchy Mexican plastic surgeries, or buying Viagara from the internet. It's pretty damned safe and regulated. Whatever your position on consumption, it's no worse for the human body (but this is a war between lungs and liver) than alcohol.

There are advisers that know their crop better than their own ass. There are private consultation rooms. A professional cashier. You can be assured that you won't be getting something you don't want. Additionally, you can be sure you'll be offered the healthiest in weed options for you and your condition - that is, of course, if you legitimately have one.

The prices are fair, but they're raking in money hand over fist. In California, state law prohibits these cannabis confectionaries from being "money making organizations".

As of present, the only tax collected from dispensaries is standard California sales tax. Last year, this rang up to $18 million.

That's it? A paltry $18 million? Gee gadz. Seems to me we're missing out. It also seems to me that California has just been handed quite an auspicious gift - the new federal disinterest in prosecuting these dispensaries and other sticky-icky related crimes. Now, the state can decide how these "crimes" shall be prosecuted.

In a time when Los Angeles kindergarten classes receive a $30 a year for supplies, road repairs simply don't happen, and the state budget is simply fucked - isn't this quite the blessing?

This new removal of federal interest in prosecuting marijuana related crimes allows California to act - and possibly fully legalize and tax marijuana. Oh bless this new income opportunity. It's more than a piggy bank. It's a Three Mile Island of cash flow.

Seems like um, dare I say, we should just legalize it.

It does more than just create a source of income, it would eliminate a major money-suck: marijuana possession and distribution crimes. Prosecution, court times, and incarceration are absurd for such a non-violent crime. Legalization would also eliminate the opportunity for marijuana distribution to become a violent crime at all.

I don't smoke weed. This isn't a plea and examination for my own benefit. I hate weed. The last time I smoked, my boyfriend and I ended up slumped over in the corner of some back house on our friend's property. Unable to stand, unable to focus my eyes, and unable to formulate a fucking sentence. I was also convinced at the time that it was a great idea to take a cab from Burbank to West LA (approximately a $60 cost). Yeah. I don't like weed, but I know a lot of people to whom it is a favorable substitution for alcohol. Good for them.

Everybody needs their vice. Everybody also needs a savior. Right now, California needs both.

Ralph Lauren, I dare you to hire Kim Kardashian

I think we're all aware that compatriots and puppeteers in media are mostly interested in conspiring to make women feel badly about themselves so that they can bend their wallets to their every whim.

Yes, of this, we are all aware.

Models in women's magazines (portraying what is nearly impossible for women to physically and economically attain, yet they're convinced is what men want) seem to, on occasion, deviate greatly from the models that men's psuedo-jerk-off mags portray.

For whom can I thank for this?

Kim Kardashian.

Kim Kardashian, I never thought I'd thank her for a thing. Though she seems to have been the single positive spawn from Paris Hilton's store-bought clusterfuck with media outlets from 2000 - 2008. It's not like Kim has really accomplished anything, but she was a catalyst for something valuable - girls with big asses finding their way into minor-league beat off publications.

I never thought this was possible, I thought my large ass was a sexual handicap. Lord, say it's so!

Dramatically large asses aren't just for the "ethnic" mags anymore. It seems as though Caucasia was ill-informed that white men only dig skinny Asian girls and white girls that are so skinny they appear to be slightly Asian. I say this because paparazzi can't get enough to Kim's ass. If paparazzi can't get enough of it it means only one thing: YOU can't get enough of it.

Kim's ass sells tabloids, it sells softcore porn (and real porn). Though I must digress, that's another complicated element of Kim Kardashian - what came first? The porn or the fame? I'm pretty damned sure it was the porn.

Ever since Ms. Kardashian came long, TheSuperficial.com started posting gargantuan ass photos of ladies other than her - Ice T's wife Coco, for one.

As a lady with a large ass, I feel quite vindicated by this. Outside of the bedroom, I have always felt ashamed of my genetic posterior embellishment, but in the bedroom I find it to be praised.

Men like ass. Don't let anybody tell you different.

In a week in which we've seen Ralph Lauren model's photoshopped to near concentration camp level thinness, we've also seen Ms. Kardashian's generous glutes praised in Maxim and FHM. There is even a shoddily fabricated KimKardashianass.org (it's just stills from her sex video, but I'm sure that URL will make millions one day).

Even though we should all be happy with who we are and blah blah blah, women will always compare themselves to one another. We will always compare ourselves to someone who gets attention paid to their physique, as it indicates that that person is a superior biological specimen.

Presuming we're speaking of straight women here: why do we give a shit how we look in the eye of other women? If it's a mate we seek, shouldn't we care more to emulate what they praise?

Which perception is legitimate? At the end of the day it doesn't matter. Please, do be happy with who you are, ladies, and just do your best to be healthy. It's likely that this is an age male-centric media awakening to the glorious sunrise beyond the horizon of a lucious, robust, and completely epic ladies' ass.

California Schemin'

People think a lot of things about California. It's the Golden State, it's corrupt, it's full of celebrities and celebutants, it's the home of the liberal elite, it's the home of electric cars, Silicon Valley, it's the home of the wealthiest rat bastards in America, and sometimes - it's a land of dreams. All of these things are true, depending on who you are, how you live and where you live. The California dream is whatever you make it, but for most of us living here it's fallen into the gaping chasm between poverty and impenetrable wealth.

The media have recently taken note of this matter. It's been noted that Los Angeles couldn't afford Michael Jackson's funeral (this really meant that the city couldn't afford public servants such as police to wrangle the crowd that ultimately didn't turn up). Los Angeles can't afford to pay its teachers. Los Angeles can't afford to take care of its hospitals, its roads, and it's turned to giving folks like me $80 parking tickets to afford this which is an expense we should all share. But California can't raise taxes without a two-thirds supermajority vote, this was voted in in 1979. This is hard to come by. In advertising there's an adage (pardon the pun): "what happens when you don't spend money on advertising? Nothing." The same goes for an entire state.

Last week I traveled to Denver to attend the wedding of a childhood friend. I encountered people I hadn't seen in fifteen years, and it was truly a delight to see that it's true, some people don't change over time. I suppose I fear change in people a bit, I dearly wish that the world doesn't get to them and harden them. For this troop it appeared to be the case that they'd missed the "world is kind of a shithole" memo. But actually, it's probably just my perspective, as a struggling Californian.

Some guests came from Texas, a smattering from Virginia, two from Oregon (my parents), and some stragglers from Arizona. You couldn't get more of a diverse group of Americans. Then you had me...the temporary Angeleno.

Upon hearing that I resided in Los Angeles, I was met with gasps of, "Oh mah gawwwwd! Do you ever see any celebrities?! How is it? Is it beautiful?! I bet it's beautiful." That general sentiment, the California dream, had salivated all over those words.

"Well, I have a great boyfriend and a great job, that's enough to keep me there. But as for the city, I could take it or leave it. And about the celebrities...there have definitely been some but I'll have to remember. Let me get back to you on that."

In that moment I realized how jaded I was. I couldn't remember the celebrities I've met? I'm a storyteller, dammit, I write this blog and tell stories all the damn time. I should be able to remember some celebrities I've met. The first that came to me was the time I vomited in front of Dr. Drew Pinsky, who is a god in my mind, but most people don't know who he is. The story didn't draw much applause.

Wedding guests from Virginia wanted me to explain what it was like where I live. They wanted to hear about Hollywood, the beaches, the shopping. It was as thought I was a war hero back on my homeland's soil. Had I done battle with anything? Yeah, kind of. I had done battle with a place that is so gluttonous it is eating itself alive. However, that notion was so present in my acquaintances' questions, I don't think they were aware of it. It was subconscious. I was the only one that saw it. To them they were getting firsthand information about a place they had only ever seen in movies and television, they had only ever seen the California dream.

I didn't want to be too much of a downer, I want people to believe that a place like the California in their minds does exist, and at some point it really did. But now, it's anything but a dream.

The Guardian recently published an article (and I believe the Economist did as well) hypothesizing that California may become America's first failed state.

The reasons for such are extremely long term. The idea is that this land of dreams, the only place in the world with such existential optimism, is failing its residents and employees left and right. Public programs such as Healthy Families are being eliminated. Parents sending children to public schools are having to donate for their supplies - if they don't, the teacher will have to buy supplies with her own money. Not to mention that pesky real estate issue, which really was self-inflicted by the intense belief in the California dream. We can have our cake and eat it too can't we? We can have medium income jobs, nice new cars, and a fabulous house the suburbs that costs more than ten times the value of our stock portfolio! Of course we can, we're entitled to that by this mandated dream aren't we?

Rome fell for such a belief. It's possible that in California, we've fixed ourselves for such a state.

Sacrifice is a word that is unheard of here. Luxury, excess, and perfection dominate everything. Most people feel entitled to these things. Then occasionally a fire rips through it all and reminds us, for approximately two weeks, that we and our possessions are finite and fallible. Then we quickly forget. And the rest of the nation never knew the feeling at all.

I hate to say that there is no easy way out of this. California unemployment sits at a solid 10% and real estate values in some cities have dropped by 75%. What are we ever to do?

Learn to sacrifice. Learn that luxury is not common and excess is not necessary. Living in an apartment is perhaps where you should be, you're not entitled to a four bedroom house seventy miles away from where you work. Likewise, our state government should learn that they cannot spend without taxing.

California is the world's eighth largest economy. The United States is the world's first largest economy. It's likely that California is a microcosm of the United States. The United States, at this particular moment in time, just as much better management.

Alan Grayson, Barney Frank: I'm smiling at you because I think I like you

When I was a youngster, I was a republican. I was a republican because my dad was a republican. From his perspective and our privileged living situation, it really was the way to go. It would have been traumatizing to our finances to have to pay more in tax and get nothing for it. My father was specifically referring to health care in this instance. I was a young one during the Clinton years.

Voluminous taxes for universal heath care would have been painful to us because we were really middle class. My parents had deemed us "middle-upper class" because my parents had no idea, what gap truly existed between us and the true middle-upper strata and upper-crust in American socio-economics.

When I moved to Los Angeles I learned what true "middle-upper" and "upper-crust" status is. It's appalling. It's gratuitous. It's absolutely slovenly for the most part. It's really not all that rare.

I've come to realize that paying for health care wouldn't hurt the rich a bit. But it would hurt republican senators and congressional representatives to soak those that pay their um, hell, I'll call it what it is - bribes*.

Michael Moore's new film (trailer) poses the idea, from presumably some middle America farmer sitting in his truck, "there has got to be a war between the people who got nothing...and the people who got it all."

There will be. It will begin on the topic of public option health insurance. Though it appears, much to my pleasure, that this war won't be fought literally between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat. It will be fought between their representatives on the floor of the Senate and the Congress.

Senator Alan Grayson said some pretty uncouth things about republicans recently.

I like it when things are uncouth. I like any reason to use that word uncouth. I'm very happy to see that the representatives of the proletariat in America are getting dirty in public, rather than behind speech writers and money laundering and positively well-deserved sex.

I'm happy that he used a nasty shocker-word, "holocaust" to describe the current fate of Americans without health coverage. However inaccurate because this atrocity knows no racial bounds. It's up to grab whatever it's legislators will throw at it. At this point, that's pretty much everybody.

I'm happy that he just went on the Rachel Maddow show and stated that the republicans he's dealing with are "knuckle-draggers". In a world in which you can help your fellow man without hurting yourself, it is pretty god damned Neaderthal-esque to forfeit that option.

While I much dislike the idea of using individuals posed as average Americans in Town Hall meetings to ferociously pulverize a positive agenda, I much like the plan to use one's suit and tie and seat in a legislative office to fight this fight. After all, that's why we voted in people like Barney Frank and Alan Grayson. America knows, deep in its collective moistened subconscious that we need loudmouthed assholes like these guys to keep shit moving downstream.

If you didn't take on a job like legislator to give your constituents a voice, just what did you do it for? Oh yes yes, the fatty fat fat checks, the praise, and the fun times rubbing elbows with the political elite that you've been mindfucking yourself to since you were in grad school.

I think Mssrs Grayson and Frank actually did stop their mindfucking episodes a while ago, or are taking a hiatus to yell with a voice as loud as we all wish we had. I want this to get bloody. I want this to get evil. Either party can all the other a liar, they can call each other murderers, get nasty. I want to see some passion. What's that feminists bumper sticker say? Well-behaved women rarely make history? I do think it's true that these days, well-behaved representatives rarely catalyze change.

*And I am fully aware that republicans are not the only legislators taking bribes.

Why the Hell am I Obsessed with Wedding Shows?

There is of course the obvious reason, that hits home for all of us ladies a little bit: I want to get married.

But there is something else, it's kind of like shopping, it's my horrible guilty little pleasure. When my boyfriend walks in the room to see me salivating while Bridezillas is on the screen, I feel quite ashamed that I'm being entertained by something requiring little gray matter to process, but not ashamed enough to change the channel.

I've only encountered one fair maiden in my day that had no desire for a wedding, though she did want to get married. She ended up getting hitched in Wyoming with Falcons (yes, literally, the predatory bird) as her bridesmaids in order to remove the attention of the crowd from her. She agreed to this for her husband. She wanted to submit the holiest of unions at City Hall.

In any case, one out of 982,960,965 isn't much. And there must be a lot of people like me because there is talk of creating a whole freaking channel devoted to wedding programming.

These people, like me, can talk for hours about our dream wedding. Maybe it's in the 9th ward, maybe it's being performed by an Aboriginal chief, or perhaps on in animal costumes because the couple of comprised of furries. Or maybe it matters more who is there, not where it is or what it looks like. Whatever the case: practically every woman, at some point in her life, decides what she wants her wedding to look like.

Perhaps this is a bit of a sycophantic notion, setting oneself up for failure by virtue of creating such a decisive illusion. Maybe, those of us doing this are sort of delusional anyway.

But aside from the obvious, why the hell am I obsessed with wedding shows?

Say Yes to the Dress: Oh yes gimme more, I cannot stop looking at bride after monotonous bride try on piles of white satin and tulle, wondering, "oh dear...I do ever so hope this is the one for her!" By proxy getting a minor fill of my own "shopping" and reflected joy as well.

Bridezillas: My love for this show is absolutely vindictive in nature. These women are nasty, futile, irreverent, and superficial. I'm not (except for when I watch this show). This makes me feel good about myself. I can sit here and cattily narrate, "oh GAWWD I'd never do THAT, that is so foolish and trite." But I'm wasting my time watching these bitches, so I guess that's score Bridezillas 1, Asta 0.

Masters of Reception: Who doesn't love a good party? I know I do! This show may actually be somewhat constructive. It causes me to go, "hey, that's a great idea, but you know what I would have done better..." Then I feel a bit like I'm correcting the end of a Michael Bay movie.

My Fair Wedding: Alright, so I've only seen half of the first episode of this show, but I'm taken. This guy, David Tutera, does what I WANT to do! He rights all of the horrible horrible wrongs made by brides with bad taste. He whisks away tackiness and misguided design without the Bride's involvement at all. Yay David!

America's Trashiest Weddings: Oh the Fox Reality Channel, when do you not provide me with low-brow entertainment? This show actually features people who love each other. I can't say anything bad about it.

The thing that I must note about all of these shows, for whatever reason they generate an emotion that most television is incapable of creating: happiness.

How many television shows can actually make us happy? We're happy for imagining our own weddings and we're happy to admire these people who seem to be, for the most part, legitimately pleased with their lifetime long decision.

Of course I can poke holes in the many facets of these shows that are corrupt and why society need not participate in these traditions any longer. The bridal industry is a massive moneymaker pretty much contrived by religion and little girls' dreams of being a "princess" on her special day (note that through my experience of watching these shows, I can conclude that these women are a nightmare, do not marry them).

All those nasty notions are lifted away when I sit back, relax, open my mouth to catch some flies, and lose some brain cells to an episode of one of these matrimonial productions. What's so bad about just spacing out and being happy? Nothing at all.