VIBE’s 1997-1998 syndicated TV show was an utter mess, as the dates of its miniscule timeline suggest. For some reason, its creators didn’t see, and were completely unable to translate from print, the dynamic and sparkly juxtapositions that made the magazine, at its peak, an unusually incandescent hit. (The periodical was completely uninvolved with the TV broadcast.)
The program always felt sluggish and old. (Hiring Sinbad, right, as the second host, after comic Chris Spencer’s anemic few months, did little to correct this.) It was as if someone had found a tattered, bled-through copy of the magazine in a trash heap, saw the name, liked it, and decided to make a program with it out of whatever stage props they had on hand. When it debuted, I watched it at a nearby bar with others from our office, but almost never after that. It’s not a high point in the magazine’s hallowed history.
There’s one moment from VIBE I remember, however, and it’s the only bit I ever saw there that not only still cracks me up, but that, to me, hinted at the show’s possibilities.
In high school, Etsy craftsmaker VulvaLoveLovelysays she “was more than an outcast, I was an untouchable.” Hurting desperately to connect with someone, she tried to drown her pain in meaningless sex, but only ended up getting abused, assaulted, and despising herself more.
It wasn’t until she saw a performance of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues that she began to peel away the layers of self-denigration that she’d built up.
And how. Today, the artist not only fashions pieces like this 2-inch pudenda-positive polymer clay pendant, right, but also creates massively hysterical works like the huggable “Utera Maxima,” above.
“Utera” is 20 inches tall, 29 inches wide, with a fallopial tube “wing span” of 69 inches. The piece is
crafted out of fuchsia fleece. The detailing is done in dark pink, light pink, and white candy striped detailing.
“Utera Maxima” should look great in your car, riding shotgun, flickin’ the finger to drivers who get too close; draped across your bed, where fortunate boudoir visitors can pay due homage; or seated in a place of esteem on your living room couch when you serve tea. Plus, the next time some nosey kid asks you where babies come from, you can just point. Vagina Pendant Necklace, $17 + $1.99 s/h. Utera Maxima, $45 + $12-$25 s/h, depending on country of destination.
I get invited to a number of movie press screenings, mostly for medium-budget, high-quality, serious “art” films. When I received the notice for political satire In the Loop, right, I looked at the image embedded in the press release, said, “James Gandolfini as a general? Feh!” Ignored it. (That’s not him, above, but actor Peter Capaldi, who, in this transatlantic piece, plays Malcolm Tucker, the British prime minister’s director of communications.)
What a mistake. I still haven’t seen the movie, but I wish the publicist had sent me the trailer, cause I’d have been there in a minute. In the Loop‘s promo is one of the best, funniest, and most expertly edited I’ve ever seen. It perfectly conveys the film’s Wag the Dog, geopolitical-comedy-of errors, Babel-speak theme with deftness and hilarity that makes the short a must-watch-again. Check it out below, or, as I always prefer, in Apple Quicktime.
Vincent Bousserez’s Plastic Life series of photos puts tiny figurines against normal-sized human implements—ashtrays, door pulls, etc.—and, as above, body parts. As the micros apparently contemplate their environments, and the impossibilities of the obstacles they face, they render wry, albeit silent, commentaries on the futility of the human condition. I dunno, but there’s something about the sight of three men, determinedly working to reach the pinnacle of a female breast, that seems sum up everything.
While we’re waiting for Eddie Murphy’s insights on Michael Jackson’s passing, this will have to do: The comedian riffing on the King, from 1983’s Delirious. High point: His spot-on impersonation of Jackson singing “She’s Out of My Life,” added calls for sympathy from the vocalist’s brothers. A quarter-century later…still amazing.
In essence, the works seem to re-imagine the conflicts enjoined by knights and samurai as played out, instead, between felines and rodents. Like, if Tom had worn this one, above, against Jerry, or Scratchy against Itchy. History could have been different.
You’ve gotta be giving somebody massively hot, amazing sex to make them even think about wanting to pick up your underwear. Yet, if they look like these numbers here, right, I’m guessing even your lovin’ ain’t that good, bud.
Shomer-Tec, long-time retailers of tools for law enforcement, probably agrees. That’s why they decided that a pair of untidy whiteys might be the world’s best place to stash some cash.
an innovative diversion safe that can secure your cash, documents, and other small valuables from inquisitive eyes and thieving hands, both at home and when you’re traveling. Items can be hidden right under their noses with these specially-designed briefs which contain a fly-accessed 4″ x 10″ secret compartment with Velcro closure and “special markings” on the lower rear portion. Leave the “Brief Safe” in plain view in your laundry basket or washing machine at home, or in your suitcase in a hotel room – even the most hardened burgler or most curious snoop will “skid” to a screeching halt as soon as they see them. (Wouldn’t you?) Made in USA. One size. Color: white (and brown).
Get the Brief Safe, and take a load off your mind. $11.
I give up. I mean, I just cannot out-hip you, especially in that 100% cotton, cream-colored, $15 Threadless.com TypeTee, available in all sizes, above, telling the world that, if it makes a sound, you’ve already probably turned your nose down on it.
The program always felt sluggish and old. (Hiring Sinbad, right, as the second host, after comic Chris Spencer’s anemic few months, did little to correct this.) It was as if someone had found a tattered, bled-through copy of the magazine in a trash heap, saw the name, liked it, and decided to make a program with it out of whatever stage props they had on hand. When it debuted, I watched it at a nearby bar with others from our office, but almost never after that. It’s not a high point in the magazine’s hallowed history.
in the press release, said, “James Gandolfini as a general? Feh!” Ignored it. (That’s not him, above, but actor 
