BRITNEY SPEARS, PLEASE PUT AWAY YOUR VAGINA BY MOTHER PHAWKER What I’m trying to tell you, dear Brit, is that you can hang out with Paris and Lindsay and Nicole or whichever tarts you choose, but YOU ARE NOT LIKE THEM. Not by virtue of talent, or beauty, or wealth, or skinniness. No, Mrs. Federline, when you gave birth to your two sons, you became unlike women who don’t have children. Hang out with your single, childless girlfriends all you want. Go out and party — you’ve been in the house changing diapers for two years, you’ve earned it. But never forget that you’re somebody’s mother now. Because your kids never will…MORE PIX + OPINION
Parents are responsible for the emotional and psychological upbringing of people other than themselves. Elementary. Well, it doesn’t take Freud to tell you that you don’t want your mom out there showing her stuff at the gas station. (For those of you who aren’t keeping up, there have been three Britney flesh flashes in just this past week, the last one while she was fueling up.) To be fair, Britney’s not the only Young Hollywood honey going out of her way to flash her bits to the paparazzi. And make no mistake: If you go out in public in a minidress with nothing underneath, and are famous enough that it’s a near certainty that every camera in your vicinity will be trained on you, then there’s nothing accidental, nothing inadvertent, about the beaver shot heard round the world. Here’s a general rule: If people can’t see your ill na-na, then people can’t take photos of your ill na-na. So put that shit away, ladies.Just because your children came out of it doesn’t mean they — and every kid in their junior-high class, thanks Mom — need to see it on the Internet in a few years. And speaking of those children, Brit, I know you’re not known for your intellect, but surely even you can see that hanging out with Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan isn’t going to help you in what is already becoming a divorce nasty enough to make Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger look like bestest buds.
Frankly, I blame this on Tara Reid, once and future celebrity party girl. She’s still riding the long tendrils of what passes for fame these days on that nipple-slip from a few years back. These days, a lil’ nip is nothin’ — the real A-Listers show bush! Or rather, lack of same. Thanks to celebrity mega-blogger Perez Hilton, coiner of the term “hairless firecrotch” in relation to Lindsay Lohan’s va-jayjay, I’ve seen so much of that tabloid trainwreck’s privates this year that we could probably claim her as a dependent.
That was a deliberate choice of word there, “dependent,” because it brings me to the next angle on CoochGate that needs addressing: The hairless firecrotch itself. Is there a reason that women under, say, age 30 feel the need to be all bare down there? Is it really about being able to wear a thong, or is it the need to add another spa service to your budget? In the case of celebrities, adult film stars and Paris Hilton, I can almost understand — I mean, you never know when a paparazzo will just suddenly appear and want a photo of your crotch, and you want them to get a good shot, right?Look, grooming — absolutely. Waxing? Go crazy. Get your alma mater’s mascot carved into the carpet if it turns you on. But completely hairless? I can’t help feel there’s something creepy, pervy even, about it. A woman is supposed to look like a woman, not a little girl. It’s another side of the JonBenet effect, which has rendered little girls so over-sexualized that “naughty pirate” and “sexy devil” Halloween costumes come in toddler sizes. Parents buy their adolescent daughters sweatpants with “juicy” written on the ass, yet our society reserves a special place in the public hatred for pedophiles ? the kind of guys who get turned on by looking at the word “juicy” written on a little girl’s behind.
Here’s the kind of feminist I am: I think these young women are idiots to flash their privates at the photogs, but not just because it shows an appalling lack of class, even by Hollywood standards. My beef with these girls is on a business level — those photogs are selling those photos and making big money. And honey, if anyone’s making mad dollars off your coochie, it ought to at least be you.
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THE BOD SQUAD: THREE WOMEN WITH SOULS AS BALD AS THEIR VAGINAS
BY EVA LIAO Ever since sex became the world’s most powerful weapon, women have been using it to get what they want. Or at least it’ll appear that way until we realize we’ve fucked ourselves over. And it isn’t that sex hasn’t always been a weapon, but now we actually go to the shooting range and practice. Like the FBI, we shoot to kill, or not at all. Back in the day when women were repressed, it was all “I’m NOT a sex object AND NOT ONLY THAT I want equal rights.” But the minute the shackles came off, it became “Well, now that I’m not forced to fulfill an obligatory submissive role, I’m gonna go and be sexy on my own accord. And that’s called LIBERATION!”It’s not that women ever disliked being viewed as desirable, they just didn’t want to do it on someone else’s watch. But women still like being wanted. They like the attention, they like the way it makes them feel and yes, girls like sex too! And I hate to be this person, but is there something so terribly wrong with that?
Maybe that’s what Britney was thinking when she let the va-jayjay drop. She was thinking, “I’m sexy, I’m single (enough) and I’ll show the world what’s on the fish market.” Or maybe she was just thinking, fuck you Federline. You won’t get a dime selling my cooch on video if I give it away for free. At least she’s good enough to clean the carpet before inviting company over, even though the full-on Mr. Clean is a little too pubescent for me.
The thing is, feeling and being attractive is OK . . . until stunts like this take things over the top. Girls like Britney, Tara Reid and Lindsay Lohan confuse women’s liberation with women’s exhibitionism. And that’s why we’ve got girls flashing tits for drinks and making out with each other for hoots and hollers. It endows them with a certain amount of attention, a false sense of power, which they can claim is self-derived. To them, if it’s intentional, then it’s OK.
But there should be a line you don’t want to cross. Being sexy is all good until you sell yourself short and put the entire weight of your worth in your pussy. Which is the difference between pop stars and real people. In the case of pop stars who don’t have any real talent to begin with, their worth does lie below the belt. But if you aren’t making millions off sex appeal, and if being a slut isn’t your occupation, then you’re selling yourself short every time you give the bartender a peep show. The biggest problem now is that little girls watch MTV and mistake the selling of sex for woman’s rights. But that ain’t liberation ladies. It’s just people who have souls as bald as their vaginas.
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I LOOKED UP BRITNEY’S SKIRT AND ALL I GOT WAS DESPONDENT
BY DAN BUSKIRK I worked on South Street a few years back on Fat Tuesday, that year the South Jersey partiers got so looped they put the Philly cops in retreat. Early on though it was just borderline nuts, and as we watched, safely holed up in Spaceboy for the afternoon, every minute or so some nervously eager drunk teenage girl would whip out her boobs and offer a view to the world. The crowd of guys would roar like Hulk Hogan had pinned his man and the girl would usually get a few pair of plastic beads flung at her head. A sweet natured guy in his twenties, my co-worker Jack finally let out a disheartened sigh. “I imagined a day like this ever since I was a kid,” he said, “so why is it so depressing?” The teasing has finally stopped and the nubile teen-icon has lifted her school uniform and it feels as if a saddened hush has fallen over the room. Like children taken backstage at Disneyland, this look behind the curtain has left us disillusioned and slightly queasy at the sight of her fleshy map of child birth, ingrown hairs and blotchy questions better left unanswered.Like that inconspicuous sideways glance you might steal at a pretty young girl, I think we wanted to be alone with our fantasies of looking up Britney’s dress. But when Britney yielded to America’s psychic commands, it forced our perverse, guilt-ridden wishes into the sunlight where they lie quivering like a fetal pig. Like, ick. And don’t accuse me of being vagina-phobic, it’s more like by letting Britney show me her beardless clam I’ve let her define our relationship. Here she does something desperate and needy and suddenly I’m acting like her mean-spirited and emotionally withholding boyfriend. And in my imaginary world I want to be as good a boyfriend as a married middle-aged man father of a newborn can be. For instance, you would really admire my fantasy relationship with Scarlett Johansson, where I’m attentive and not at all condescending despite the differences in our age. But damn, somehow Britney has turned me into Kevin Federline. Here I am, bitter as hell and speaking derisively of a mother-of-two who has squandered the best education a child can receive on the set of The Mickey Mouse Club and is instead acting as if she was Annie Sprinkle at a speculum party. Like watching Bud Dwyer blow his brains out, there are times I wish my curiosity didn’t get the best of me. Now I’m needing a vacation from my vacation and I’m wearing that t-shirt that says, “I looked up Britney’s skirt and all I got was despondent.” Like her fellow iconic pop star once said, “The Dream Is Over.”************************************************************************************
TO LIVE AND SHAVE IN LA
BY ED KING It’s getting hard to find whack-worthy porn anymore. It’s bad enough trying to overlook the implants, the meticulous landing strip of pubic hair, the inch-thick make-up, the Lita Ford hair, and the high heels (if guys really find a naked woman in high heels sexy, then I don’t want to be categorized in the same broad heterosexual group as them) when scrolling through professional porn. Now, with the advent of young celebrity women starving themselves to preteen weights and staging shaved snatch shots, the best and brightest of everyday celebrity thrills seem to be gearing up for a stint in Vietnam’s underage sex market. Lindsay, you were not put on earth for Gary Glitter’s hard drive!*********************************************************************************
IF ONE DAY THE TEEN-INDUSTRY WILL FOREVER STOPS
BY SIMONE SECCI ROME CORRESPONDENT Far from the truth is that as Italian I’m immune to American pop idols. Unfortunately not: they’re everywhere all the time talking about how much money they spent to buy their pets a set of luggage to travel with them on their private jet. Which is already enough for me to sentence them to work as miners forever. Besides this small preface how to react to this newest attempt to conquer the male hormones reactions? Well internet is the wildest commercial channel that modern times offer so doesn’t surprise that Britney is pretty aware of this and able to use her image, in different
costumes of course such as proud parent, sexy babe showing her vagina and whatever it comes, to get popularity. She knows someone is gonna take that pic and someone else is gonna appreciate it for private use, as a lot of other celebs already did I have to say. New faces same systems, old faces new roles and same money. Obviously as a male I have to say that it would be hypocrite, to judge people because they got excited with internet nude pics, but lemme say that there’s a lot more honesty in some blonde, having a threesome in a random porn to pay her bills than in Britney Spears. Although both are not those that are making the more money exploiting and selling fresh meat, dating some twenty something being in their late fifties and forgetting once in a while to respect any law but this is another story
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WHAT ME WORRY?
BY THE EDITOR [pictured, left] Amen to all the above. Having said that, I guess it falls to me to be the voice of candor and say plainly what my male colleagues were apparently too shaved and pussy-whipped to spell out. If they look deep in their hearts of darkness or for that matter our traffic stats from a moment ago (pretty much the same thing, come to think of it), they will concur and, on behalf of men everywhere, join with me in saying: We could not be more pleased with the way things are going.
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