Vanity Fair To Who?

I know I’m late on this – and by late, I mean that the cover was just effing released this week and I already feel that by writing about it, I’m making points someone somewhere has already proudly and originally made – but that’s the (*through clenched teeth*) beauty of the internet, right? Be nimble, be quick.

Anyway, Vanity Fair debuted it’s Hollywood 2010 issue and everyone’s up in arms that there are no women of color being honored this year. Which makes sense. But I’m not surprised. And I don’t think you should be, either. (This is where I start to play Devil’s Advocate to avoid being redundant.)

Everyone’s wondering where the hell Gabourey Sidibe from “Precious” is but, be honest, had they done that, people would now be complaining about something entirely different. When placed side-by-side with Hollywood’s size zero’s whose, as seen above, calves seem to be the same size as their ankles, someone would begin to wonder aloud if Sidibe was silently being made a mockery of, being built up just to be knocked down. And then everyone within earshot would’ve nodded and grabbed a soap box to stand on top of. And then asked to be handed a bullhorn.

That’s not to say she doesn’t deserve a coveted spot. She absolutely does; so does Zoe Saldana, but she’s already appeared once (so stop sucking your teeth, see it below) and apparently, as history has shown, you can only be a Hollywood “It” Girl multiple times if you’re white.* (Kidman, Danes, Paltrow, Moore, Thurman, Dunst, Connelly and Watts have all appeared twice, while Winslet, Blanchett and Johansson have covered the issue three times.)

*Well, damn, Cruz and Dawson disproved that statement, but still?!

Let’s take a look back:

1995 - “HOLLYWOOD HIGHEST—THE CLASS OF 2000” Jennifer Jason Leigh, Uma Thurman, Nicole Kidman, Patricia Arquette, Linda Fiorentino, Gwyneth Paltrow, Sarah Jessica Parker, Julianne Moore, Angela Bassett, Sandra Bullock.

Say “No” To Politics & “Yes” To Marina

Learning about politics is hard, so I propose that watching and listening to this is the equivalent of reading the wordiest part of a newspaper. After all, Marina & The Diamonds do in 3-and-a-half minutes what frustrated New York Times writers do for a lifetime, and that’s conclude that America, is in fact, a mess. Prepare yourself for earth-shattering material.

And yes, always be advised on national issues by those who are Welsh-born and London-based. They know best.

Ok, so maybe not. But she’s dope.

Our President, The Addict.

In November of last year, much speculation was made about our President’s addiction. He is, after all, a slave to the monkey on his back, and machine on his hip; the ubiquitous Crackberry. In his case, the 8700c.

Like a fiend attempting recovery, Barack Obama has taken the first step in any 12-part program, and admitted to having a problem by publicly disclaiming the withdrawal that will undoubtedly set in should he be asked to hand over his cherished device. But it doesn’t mean he’s going to make amends.

The man is actually going to try his first hand at Presidency by vetoing the demand. Forget the Presidential Records Act, which will put his correspondence in the official record and ultimately up for public review, it’s 2009 and Barack Obama has all the swag, spell, and, come January 20, inarguable authority to do so.

You’ve seen the symptoms: feverishly thumbing the device under tables during conferences, rudely lowering eye-sight mid-conversation when alerted to an update, worriedly extending it above one’s head looking for spots of service.

Is the nation really ready to watch our President go down in flames? After all, experts spoke, saying the potential to make a habit of these kinds of communication devices is real; they can make people feel disconnected, which also happens with gambling, and alcohol and drug use. Here, come the lawsuits.

Now, two months later and with only three days left of normalcy, Barack is still fighting the good fight. He still has not surrendered. And Research in Motion, fiends in their own right, is awaiting the moment his word overpowers the non-believers and he enters the Oval Office trackballing and blirting. RIMM, the makers of the BlackBerry, are seeing our 44^th as a priceless plug, claiming that there’s no better spokesman for the product and that he could earn (on the low end) $25 million for an endorsement deal. Too bad, Barack’s now considered a public servant.

Like any good spin-doctor though, Barack claims crack is necessary when arguing issues of global welfare and national security, and that he wants “to be able to have voices, other than the people who are immediately working for [him], be able to reach out and send a message about what’s happening in America.”

I’m buying every word.

So, what's good B? Can I get your PIN?

Hi, Hater

And so it begins.

Bush is a hater. Yesterday, he declared Barack Obama’s inauguration an actual emergency. Like the kind that has its danger level determined by a color scale. Granted, the number of guests expected at the 44th President’s swearing-in ceremony is unrivaled, but the government has already set aside $15 million to help Washington, D.C. pay for security, as well as medical personnel (that’s for all the optimistic assertions being made about people suffering heart attacks, getting trampled on, self-inflicting pain while stuck in outlandish traffic, etc.). A president’s power to declare a state of emergency is typically used after hurricanes and floods (and would have really been considered timely had this been 2005), but never before, said his spokesperson Scott Stanzel, has an advance emergency declaration been used for a “non-disaster.” There’s really no way to go out better than to rain on someone’s parade, huh, Bush? Then again, maybe being compared to an irrepressible force isn’t so bad. Go hard or go home. Obama.

AS SEEN ON: GIANTMAG.COM

Smooth Operator

Hey ma, can I talk to you?

I am convinced star quality is innate, because I hate cigarettes. Not just hate, but abhor. A feeling so strong I’ve thrown fits of rage at loved ones who love them. This rage is the shiny happy kind that the Moldy Peaches so eloquently sing of. I know because after the red-faced tantrum, I felt strangely good about my (questionably) reasonable point made. I – with a stranger as my victim of judgment – quietly question their sanity and intelligence; I save the hurling insults for people I know and am well acquainted with. I despise the existence of cigarettes, and the subsequent habit the puffer surrenders to. Loathe so much that despite my (very) short stint in dabbling with said substance (blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol), I feel no shame in my clearly hypocritical judgment calls. I am sure star quality is intrinsic, because this picture: 

Puff, no pass.

bothers me none.

And that is why Barack is President. He can do no wrong (please note that this is a time-sensitive comment, as he has not joined office yet). It is now undoubtedly clear that his charisma not only emanates when making  “yes, we can” type speeches, but also off of 20-year-old flexible surfaces. And that’s a problem. Nobody likes a charming mofo. Now, the 16-year marriage to Michelle - renamed Love in the Time of the Cholera Divorce – makes sense. Barack was that fourth Boyz II Men member, wasn’t he? The one who layered Wanya’s whining with baritone begging. Smooth effing operator. He’ll win her back every time! And when I say her, I mean we, the people.

The fact that this:

has temporarily made me forget all sensical thoughts of the  poison-laden package he holds in his hand makes me uneasy. I don’t like being vulnerable.

Oh, ma, why you gotta do me like that?

OBAMA ’08. Yes.