Jezebel is grinding their Taylor Swift axe again, some more, this time agreeing with (and amplifying) Autostraddle's statement that "Taylor Swift is a feminist's nightmare."

I don’t particularly like Taylor Swift, so I hate being in the position of having to defend her, but come on. In addition to some of the excellent points made by commenters -- e.g., it’s ridiculous to say a young woman who sings about how there are bigger and better things in life than boys, and exhibits more control over her career than most 20-year-old women in the music industry are allowed, is "a feminist’s nightmare" (surely there are more horrifying things keeping you up at night) -- there’s the very simple fact that if you pay more than five seconds of attention to Taylor Swift, it becomes very very clear that the cute/sweet/virginal/infantilized image is not all there is to her, nor is it the image she most often chooses for herself. If you want to have a conversation about why we as an audience, no matter how educated or liberal or feminist, seem unwilling to acknowledge that women in the public eye (and in general) can exist somewhere between the opposing extremes of "sexed-up whore" and "sweet baby virgin" (and I guess now "liberal feminist smartypants"), then that’s cool. I’m with you. But if you’re not willing to do that work, and are instead going to take the lazy, careless route of conflating the image projected upon Taylor Swift with the image Taylor Swift projects, and using that to proclaim Taylor Swift, as both a person and a symbol, the enemy of feminism? Then fuck it, you’re feminism’s worst nightmare.

This video includes two of my favorite things: Chad Dylan Cooper Sterling Knight, and Bonnie Hunt being slutty.



Also, proving that sometimes the Internet comes through, someone named h193013 has commented, "I can't belive Chad has his own Chad."

It’s been eight hours since I first saw this, and I still can’t decide what bothers me more: that someone produced a viral video for the sole purpose of making Ke$ha seem creative and rebellious instead of brainless and pre-packaged, or that the viral video produced for the sole purpose of making Ke4ha (you know what, that’s a typo, but I’m gonna leave it) seem creative and rebellious instead of brainless and prepackaged is itself brainless and pre-packaged. “Oh, yeah, me and my model friends decided to go up to the Hollywood sign totes on a whim — with our professional camera crew — to be all IRREVERENT. That’s why we’re wearing panties and animal masks! We even outsmarted the po-po — by, um, having a polite conversation with them — so we could IRREVERENTLY deface the Hollywood sign by draping a sheet spraypainted with my name over it! IT’S NOT LIKE USC ALREADY DID THAT BACK IN ‘87. Check out how we tackle those 40-foot letters without the aid of ladders or cranes! Ladders and cranes aren’t IRREVERENT! Neither is bringing enough spraypaint to paint letters that big. Also not IRREVERENT: the multimillion-dollar security system set up around the Hollywood sign to prevent pranks like this one. Which is why it didn’t detect us. IRREVERENCE: it makes you invisible…to THE MAN. Woooo! Now jump cut to me waking up in the car — because I’m THAT HARDCORE — and saying totally viral video things like, ‘Do you see this?’ THAT IS SOME IRREVERENT SHIT. BIZNATCHES.” I mean, fuck. At least record it with a Flip camera and a flashlight or something. Jesus.

This! This! This is what I was talking about when I said I was jealous because some dude proposed to some girl on The Weather Channel, which would be like my version of a fairytale wedding! I mean, The Weather Channel! My fucking favorite!

Did you know Pixie Lott's "Jack" was co-written by Marion Raven? (The album version is okay, but is as always the case with Pixie, I prefer the demo version posted on her MySpace back in the day.)

Last night I went to Brooklyn, drank three-dollar wine, stood in a kitchen and gossiped, stole someone's beer, kept running into this guy, was one of those girls lounging in the corner with their legs all intertwined, ran off to the burrito shop, debated late-night TV hosts, counted down to midnight, kissed a bunch of people, got drenched in champagne, crashed a penthouse, got pulled into the bathroom to discuss the situation, was given a mug of tomato vodka & grapefruit juice by a guy wearing a sparkly white jacket and nothing underneath, stood barefoot in the drizzle on the balcony, avoided the guy in the goth makeup and the bowler hat, apparently declared I wanted to fuck the guy in the gray muscle tee with the long blond hair, poured myself a mug of champagne, left the party, ate nachos at 4 AM, crashed in my friend's bed, and had a slumber party heart-to-heart.

You know a night takes a certain shape? When it begins, the possibilities are limitless: you can go anywhere, you can do anything, you can be anyone. But you make a choice -- where you're going, what outfit you're wearing -- and that choice starts a chain reaction, knocking down the possibilities one by one, till the night narrows itself down, and ends with either love or crying.

Last night never narrowed itself down. The possibilities remained limitless, stayed standing, were there for me to touch and take and move along. Last night everything that could happen did happen. Happy 2010.

I have been watching Doctor Who for four days straight.

I decided to start at series 1, but cherry-pick my way through by watching the episodes that sounded most interesting and/or structurally important, and just reading the plots of the rest on Wikipedia. And the original plan was: after every five episodes of the earlier series(es?), I would reward myself with an episode of series 4. Which lasted as long as it took me to watch from "The Runaway Bride" through like half of "The Fires of Pompeii," and then I was all FUCK THAT MARTHA JONES NOISE SERIES 3 WILL HAVE TO WAIT.

So four days. It's like...it's like...okay, remember how many thoughts I had about Battlestar? Imagine that, except compressed into four days instead of four years, and without anyone to talk me through them. ( I have lots and lots of thoughts! Many of which are in capslock! ) It's just, God, you guys. I mean. HOW IS TV ALLOWED TO HAPPEN? What brilliant confluence of events allowed humankind to put such beautiful things on little boxes week after week? What earned us the privilege of sitting in front of glowing screens and being captivated, and all the community that comes with it -- the millions of discussions and shared jokes and repeated lines? I mean, yes, there's music, and there's magazines, and there's poetry, and there's prose. But television. Oh, television. I don't think I've ever loved any of them like I love television.

Which is to say (a) if you also have thoughts about this show, I WOULD TOTALLY LOVE TO HEAR THEM, and (b) I'm about to start watching "The Stolen Earth" / "Journey's End." WISH ME FUCKING LUCK.

Please send your Dr. Who-watching friends over here to tell me if I can just jump into the most recent series (which is what I want to do, because it turns out any time David Tennant and Catherine Tate are in the same room, I fucking DIE OF HAPPINESS, and by the way, if she's actually the WORST COMPANION EVAR!!! or some shit, and you're currently composing a long and eloquent comment to notify me of this fact, just stop. Turn back now. Don't even bother. Let me live with my blissful ignorance) or if I have to go back and watch other stuff first.

Thx.

Love,
girlboymusic

My mother has always loved "I Can't Make You Love Me." My entire childhood, in the evenings, in the quiet moments, I could hear the sound of my mother in the kitchen, singing along to Bonnie Raitt. As a result, I had always hated "I Can't Make You Love Me." Because my mother, as lovely as her voice is, cannot sing along with anything. She is chronically incapable of starting any line, or hitting any note, less than a quarter-second late, and as a child this filled me with a literally unspeakable rage, until I would beg her to please, please just not attempt to sing along to anything, ever, when I was in the house. (Which always made me feel guilty, because she really does have a pretty voice, and my forbidding her to sing in my presence probably didn't help her confidence, but it was just one of those things that I could not take; on the list of sounds that made me feel like I was about to lose control of my arms and actually hit somebody, only my grandmother whispering her stupid rosary prayers on long car rides home ranked ahead of my mom singing everything half a second late.) And although she must have sung other songs, too, "I Can't Make You Love Me" became the focal point for all my annoyance at my mom's singing; until I was nineteen or twenty, just hearing the first few notes would induce some sort of Pavlovian annoyance response in me.

Then one day, a little less than a year ago, I was in the middle of fighting to get some guy to pay attention, to be there the way I wanted him to be there, to care, when something in my head said, "You can't make him love you." And all of a sudden, I got it. I found a copy of "I Can't Make You Love Me," and I listened to it, and I got it. And it was doubly comforting, because it was like having my mom there with me. It ceased to remind me of the suppressed rage, the claustrophobia, of being twelve on a midwinter weekend, not annoyed at anything in particular, but just reaching the limit of how long you could sit in a house with your parents, and counting down the hours till you could go to school and get away from the million tiny, innocent things they did that had never bothered you before but lately had a way of driving you completely and illogically fucking bonkers; it became, like "Amazing Grace," a song I loved because my mother sang it.

This, apparently, was the nudge I needed to really begin speeding down the slippery slope to becoming my mother, because I am totally about to go buy Carole King's Tapestry, another favorite of my mom's that I was sure I hated until about a month ago, when I realized I actually love it, and I would also really appreciate it if anybody could recommend albums from the following artists: Carly Simon, Paul Simon, Elvis Costello.

itsjuststephanie: "guys, the lyrics could be ‘Split Level Ranch House and Supercomputer’, it’s meaningless. that’s the point. Y’all are insane."
girlboymusic: NO IT IS A COMMENTARY ON TODAY'S SOCIETY.
girlboymusic: OBVS.
girlboymusic: BTW, let's write "Split Level Ranch House and Supercomputer.
girlboymusic: Indie girl pop twee shoegaze style.
itsjuststephanie: i was going to suggest that!!
girlboymusic: Put it out, wear adorbs outfits, get famous on the Internet.
itsjuststephanie: i was like, "i kind of want this song now."
itsjuststephanie: it can be commentary on suburban life.
girlboymusic: It will involve us harmonizing softly and ever-so-slightly off-key over a simple Garage Band and/or metronome beat, plus unskilled guitar strumming and twinkly windchime noises.
girlboymusic: Or bird calls?
girlboymusic: Our experiment with cooperative cello-playing should go in the middle somewhere.
itsjuststephanie: YES. THE CELLO IS AMAZING.
itsjuststephanie: maybe bird calls, with some of phinneas' whining scattered in, and then a train whistle.
girlboymusic: And yes, totally a commentary on suburban life! Like, nostalgia for sitting in your split-level ranch house and watching '80s young-adult sci-fi movies like 'War Games' and 'ET.'
itsjuststephanie: also watching my little pony.
girlboymusic: Let me re-cut my bangs and put on my ribbed maroon tights, and we'll do this.
girlboymusic: No, it needs to be about '80s scifi. That's why it's "Split-Level Ranch House and SUPERCOMPUTER."
itsjuststephanie: i need large bows to go in my hair.
itsjuststephanie: OOOOH.
itsjuststephanie: 2001 a space odyseey!
itsjuststephanie: we need to mention hal.
girlboymusic: And some beat-up canvas sneakers.
girlboymusic: NO. IT MUST BE CHILDREN'S MOVIES.
itsjuststephanie: no, those great high tops!
itsjuststephanie: LA GEAR.
girlboymusic: DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND BEING SUCCESSFUL AS AN INDIE GIRL?
girlboymusic: Ugh, you are totally all off in another genre.

John McCutcheon - "Mail Myself to You"
Supertramp - "Give a Little Bit"
Beach Boys - "God Only Knows"
Peter Himmelman - "Always in Disguise"
Francis Dunnery - "Good Life"
Grant-Lee Phillips - "We All Get a Taste"
Beyonce - "That's Why You're Beautiful"
MGMT - "Time to Pretend"
Elliott Smith - "Fond Farewell" (!?)
Cyndi Lauper - "Feels Like Christmas"
Craig Armstrong - "PM's Love Theme"
Howie Day - "Collide"
Elvis Presley - "Such a Night"
The Flaming Lips - "Do You Realize??"
Glen Phillips - "Duck and Cover"
Jeff Buckley - "New Year's Prayer"
Annie Lennox - "Shining Light"
Cake - "Love You Madly"
Elvis Costello - "Beautiful"
Israel Kamakawiwo'ole - "Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World"
Johnny Mathis - "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
Mindy Smith - "Come to Jesus"
Paul Simon - "Kodachrome"
X-Ray Dog - "Timeline," "Mystic Knights," "Magical Mystery"

Thinking of adding Rihanna's "The Last Song" or "Fire Bomb" this year, which I'm sure will garner just as big a "!?" as Elliott Smith when I open the list back up again next year.

nalismo: girl i had the worst flu of my life
girlboymusic: Grosss.
nalismo: i was in the bathroom
nalismo: and like, just when you think you're all self-sufficient and city-suave
nalismo: you end up staring at your snotty, barf-ridden face, crying for your fucking mother
( Seriously, it's all downhill from here. )

Over on chainofknives, Paul Cox posted the "Love is a Stranger" video with the following commentary:

Occasionally, we must all find time in our day to reflect on just how ridiculously awesome Annie Lennox once was. This video, which is now 26 years old, still looks like it could’ve been made yesterday. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lady Gaga… but I bet Annie Lennox has forgotten more about pop music and the art of music video than Stefani Germanotta will ever learn.

Uh, how about we find some time to reflect on how ridiculously awesome Annie Lennox still is? I mean, yes, the painfully earnest and vaguely hypocritical activism, and the cringeingly misguided charity single, and whatever the hell she's been wearing lately, and the wool has been pulled off of all of our eyes and we see what a bad dancer she is now, and the utter lameness of her recent videos. Yes. All of that. Yes.

( But. )

Being as cool as she used to be is a losing battle. Even if she managed to make another "Love is a Stranger," right now, right this minute, we would still be talking about how cool she used to be. Because part of the problem here is the same problem I had with people who were horrified, just horrified at Britney's 2007 VMA performance: nothing she is doing now is demonstrably different from what she did as a younger woman. (As a younger woman, more importantly, who adhered more closely to the standards of beauty set forth by fashion magazines and gossip blogs.) The activism, the charity singles, the awkward performances, the stupid clothes, the overly symbolic videos: she did them in her twenties before she did them in her fifties. But in her twenties she was exciting, she was setting the trends, she was so awesome that almost thirty years later we're digging out her old work and using it to tell today's pop stars they could learn and thing or two about art. In her fifties, not so much. Shocker! Gorgeous young girls are given the benefit of the doubt, by all of us, in a way that middle-aged women are not! The emperor was never wearing any clothes! Who knew! (Related: It was really interesting to hear her A&R guy basically admit that the label gave her zero push to radio on her last two albums, because they didn't believe any station would play a woman her age, right in front of her and to a room full of people who had paid money to see her.)

Being as cool as she is, on the other hand? It's possible, and it's interesting. It's interesting because it's not something you get to hear often -- crushes and daydreams and it's-exciting-to-have-sex are teenpop territory, but here's a fifty-something woman claiming it for herself. It's interesting because she did it, unlike Liz Phair, without actually adopting a teenpop sound. It's interesting because does it make a difference, her age and her sound? The feelings are the same, but her feelings about the feelings aren't -- the way she thinks about crushes is not the way, say, Demi Lovato and Ashlee Simpson think about crushes -- and what is it about the lyrics, what is it about the production that makes that clear? It's exciting because she's doing something new, and she's doing it well, and you can engage with it, with how human she sounds, how vulnerable, how disappointed, how confident, how amused.

But we're digging out her old work. Almost thirty years later. Fabulous.

This all goes back to that tantrum I had a while ago about how all of our conversations are about what's new -- what was just released, what we just found, what momentarily amused and distracted us before, like magpies, we darted off to find the next shiny thing. We privilege what's new now, we privilege what was new then. We privilege young. We don't talk about the progression from album to album, what they kept and what they shed. We don't talk about how this album gave us a better understanding of the last, how it surprised us or didn't surprise us, how every new release makes it easier to distill an artist down to their essence -- throw every Eurythmics album in a flask and heat them till they boil, and what rises into vapor is hope, and how impossible it is to hold on to. We make that not the domain of critics, but the domain of fans. Why? Why?

I'm going to start a Tumblr called "Albums That Came Out That Were Super Interesting, But Nobody Talked About Them Because They Were By Old People." It's going to be about albums that came out that were super interesting, but nobody talked about them because they were by old people. Who wants in?

Okay, so this is a commercial for Fulla, which is basically a Muslim version of Barbie. I was kind of into its wholesome depiction of young womanhood, but about halfway through I just...I mean, she's a lesbian, right? That's what's going on here?

Songs which did not make my Jukebox Top 20, in no particular order:
Demi Lovato - Here We Go Again
Fefe Dobson - I Want You
Cobra Starship ft. Leighton Meester - Good Girls Go Bad
Pet Shop Boys - Did You See Me Coming?
Miley Cyrus - Party in the USA
Cassie ft. Diddy - Must Be Love
Jordin Sparks - Battlefield
Nina Sky - On Some Bullshit
Lady Gaga - Paparazzi
Allison Iraheta - Friday I'll Be Over You
Rihanna - Wait Your Turn
Kelly Clarkson - Already Gone
Jay-Z ft. Alicia Keys - Empire State of Mind
Kristinia DeBarge - Goodbye
Kelly Clarkson - Already Gone

Songs which did make my Jukebox Top 20, in particular order:
1. Maia Hirasawa - South Again
2. Florence and the Machine - Drumming Song
3. Mr Hudson ft. Kanye West - Supernova
4. Jay-Z - Death of Autotune
5. Lily Allen - 22
6. VV Brown - Shark In The Water
7. Lady Gaga - Bad Romance
8. k-os - 4 3 2 1
9. Pixie Lott - Mama Do
10. Black Eyed Peas - I Gotta Feeling
11. Kelly Clarkson - I Do Not Hook Up
12. Demi Lovato - Don't Forget
13. Rihanna - Russian Roulette
14. Britney Spears - If U Seek Amy
15. Muse - Uprising
16. The Lonely Island ft. T-Pain - I'm On A Boat
17. Milow - Ayo Technology
18. Robbie Williams - Bodies
19. Das Racist - Combination Pizza Hut Taco Bell (Wallpaper Remix)
20. Kanye West ft. Mr Hudson - Paranoid

I was just sitting smack in front of this.

You know, no big deal.

Sometimes my fascination with fast/junk food culture and my fascination with the "two countries separated by a common language" concept combine, and as I'm eating something, I think, "I wonder if they have this in the UK." (In case you're wondering: Kentucky Fried Chicken, yes. Cheerios, yes. Cheez Whiz, no. Wendy's, no. Universal health care, yes.)

So, this morning I was pouring myself a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats, and I thought, "I wonder if they have Frosted Mini Wheats in the UK." (The answer is yes, apparently, although they're called Frosted Wheats, but this is according to Wikipedia, so feel free to correct me, Lex & tellitslant & others. Also, is anyone else bothered by the fact that Frosted Mini Wheats now come in a "Big Bites" variety? You can't have a big version of Frosted Mini Wheats! A big version of Frosted Mini Wheats is just a frosted Shredded Wheat! Don't think we don't remember that Mini Wheats were a smaller spin-off of the original Shredded Wheat, Kellogg's! WE DO. THAT IS A FROSTED SHREDDED WHEAT. YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYBODY.)

Anyway, I typed "uk cereals" into my browser, and was taken to the Nestle / UK Cereal Partners website, where I discovered a product called Shreddies. I'll let the good people of Nestle describe Shreddies for you:

Every delicious Shreddies square is lovingly knitted by nanas. The special recipe of 4 layers of whole grain gives the perfect taste everyone loves. Shreddies need a nana's touch! For more of our nanas' secrets check out the website at www.knittedbynanas.com.

Further investigation reveals that not only is there a UK ad campaign wherein Shreddies are shown to, indeed, be knitted by adorable and friendly grandmas, but the Canadian version did a campaign advertising "New Diamond Shreddies," which were just normal square shreddies turned to the side.

WHY DOES AMERICA SUCK SO MUCH?

No, not the boy with the black, soulless eyes. The girl he's in love with: