Friday, October 31, 2003
TEAM COVERAGE
No picture sums up the media reaction to the wild fires any better than the huge front page photo in Wednesday's LA Times. From an aerial perspective you see a threatened neighborhood, presumably evacuated, with a wall of flames bearing down on it. The houses are still standing and you can see on the street two vehicles - one a fire truck and the other a Channel 9 news van.
A Channel 9 news van.
I wanted to break that out because maybe I'm the only one who noticed it, or was the only one bugged by it, or whatever. This is the day after the guy from Channel 4, veteran newsman Chuck Henry (is it me or has he somehow not aged in 30 years?), came deadly close to becoming another fire victim. Why? Because of the tremendous pressure for news agencies to provide extensive "team coverage" of breaking news stories, be they wars, riots, car chases, natural disasters or what have you (my favorite kind). This begs a question:
When the Armegeddon comes, will the local channels provide team coverage of it?
Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, I understand why there is over-the-top nonstop coverage of events. What I don't understand is the media's knack for trying to become the event, to in effect provide coverage of its own role in it. Yes, it is necessary to show video of the fire, in all of its various locations. Yes, it is necessary to make the coverage wall-to-wall, even if factual information comes in at a trickle, say one or two verified facts every hour. Yes, I suppose it is even necessary to interview vicitms, or people who came close to being victims, because that is news, in its own way, although I'm not so sure we the viewers really need to see an 18 year old girl returning home to sift through the ashes of her lifelong home. I suppose they can always say "no, get the fuck away from me," but how often does that happen?
What is not necessary is for news vans and reporters to go up into evacuated areas, areas of great danger, and sit there and transmit what is essentially TV screen wallpaper of huge, scary leaping flames. It serves no purpose. I mean, I seriously doubt that there is someone in a fire area who is getting the necessary information to evacuate based on what they see on television. My guess is these are the last people who would be watching TV at this point. If they are, it says more for the stuipity of the viewer, more than anything else.
No, all the pictures do is make voyeurs out of those who are not in a fire area. "Oh my gosh! Look at that fire! I'm certainly glad we don't live in a fire area!" Yet the flames are just as visible from areas that are not directly threatened. Nobody, and I mean nobody, needs to see some poor soul's house engulfed in flames. That is not news, that is invasion of privacy, even when the homeowner is far far away. Especially if the homeowner is far far away.
Who gave Jeff Michaels of Fox News the okay to go tramping through the ashes of someone's home? Why do fire officials give the okay to let the news vans up that close? All they are doing is putting more lives in danger - like Chuck Henry. Just for a better look at the "story". And if, god forbid, one of those media members goes up in flames as well, who is at fault? And if, god forbid, someone from the media actually did become a victim, can you imagine the over-reaction and indignation ("that brave reporter") that would be heaped upon the already overloaded circuit of coverage. When the true answer is: You have stayed the hell out of there!
Here's a couple of more examples, and this is very random, as I only skim the news reports as I can't stand to watch them for more than a minute or two. But last night on Channel 2 they showed a live spot of a reporter, clearly shivering and wanting to get off the air (probably wanting to get the hell out of there), who was kept on the air as the anchors kept peppering her with questions. Now at first I interpreted the shivering as fear, because the reporter was telling about a close "Chuck Henry" type call. But apparently it was freezing ass cold where she was, Running Springs or wherever, and so it may have just been that, the cold. I suspect it was a little of both. And for what? So we can know that it's really dangerous up there and that people should get the hell out? From what I know, people had already gotten the hell out, a long time before. So why the hell are the news vans still up there? I can't imagine they are helping fight the fire.
Which brings us to our next example, a man being interviewed at a San Bernardino shelter who was a bit confused and bitter that no water dropping helicopters could be deployed to fight the fire, yet the area was flooded with TV helicopters. Well, it's a damn good question. If the conditions are such that no rescue operations can be employed, shouldn't every one else be grounded? What's more important here, getting control of a wild fire, or providing continuing up close coverage of the wild fire?
And if residents are not allowed to return home to prepare for evacuations (this happened in Claremont, if you just happened to out for a party that night and got back too late, you were shit out of luck), why the hell are news vans allowed in the same neighborhood? Just so some fat ass in a secure area can go, "Mabel, get a load of that!"
It's absolutely perverse. Here's something to chew on. The next time a disaster strikes, like a wild fire, make the news organizations follow the same rules as everyone else. The coverage might be drastically different, but the pertinent information will remain the same, since really all the available sources for this are emergency workers and residents. Amazingly enough the media will survive, even with these limitations.
But the good news is that Channel 9 has now finally stopped its 24/7 coverage of the fire, now we can only hope that they start reporting some of the other news, and sports for gods sake, that is not tied to the hip of a disaster.
No picture sums up the media reaction to the wild fires any better than the huge front page photo in Wednesday's LA Times. From an aerial perspective you see a threatened neighborhood, presumably evacuated, with a wall of flames bearing down on it. The houses are still standing and you can see on the street two vehicles - one a fire truck and the other a Channel 9 news van.
A Channel 9 news van.
I wanted to break that out because maybe I'm the only one who noticed it, or was the only one bugged by it, or whatever. This is the day after the guy from Channel 4, veteran newsman Chuck Henry (is it me or has he somehow not aged in 30 years?), came deadly close to becoming another fire victim. Why? Because of the tremendous pressure for news agencies to provide extensive "team coverage" of breaking news stories, be they wars, riots, car chases, natural disasters or what have you (my favorite kind). This begs a question:
When the Armegeddon comes, will the local channels provide team coverage of it?
Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, I understand why there is over-the-top nonstop coverage of events. What I don't understand is the media's knack for trying to become the event, to in effect provide coverage of its own role in it. Yes, it is necessary to show video of the fire, in all of its various locations. Yes, it is necessary to make the coverage wall-to-wall, even if factual information comes in at a trickle, say one or two verified facts every hour. Yes, I suppose it is even necessary to interview vicitms, or people who came close to being victims, because that is news, in its own way, although I'm not so sure we the viewers really need to see an 18 year old girl returning home to sift through the ashes of her lifelong home. I suppose they can always say "no, get the fuck away from me," but how often does that happen?
What is not necessary is for news vans and reporters to go up into evacuated areas, areas of great danger, and sit there and transmit what is essentially TV screen wallpaper of huge, scary leaping flames. It serves no purpose. I mean, I seriously doubt that there is someone in a fire area who is getting the necessary information to evacuate based on what they see on television. My guess is these are the last people who would be watching TV at this point. If they are, it says more for the stuipity of the viewer, more than anything else.
No, all the pictures do is make voyeurs out of those who are not in a fire area. "Oh my gosh! Look at that fire! I'm certainly glad we don't live in a fire area!" Yet the flames are just as visible from areas that are not directly threatened. Nobody, and I mean nobody, needs to see some poor soul's house engulfed in flames. That is not news, that is invasion of privacy, even when the homeowner is far far away. Especially if the homeowner is far far away.
Who gave Jeff Michaels of Fox News the okay to go tramping through the ashes of someone's home? Why do fire officials give the okay to let the news vans up that close? All they are doing is putting more lives in danger - like Chuck Henry. Just for a better look at the "story". And if, god forbid, one of those media members goes up in flames as well, who is at fault? And if, god forbid, someone from the media actually did become a victim, can you imagine the over-reaction and indignation ("that brave reporter") that would be heaped upon the already overloaded circuit of coverage. When the true answer is: You have stayed the hell out of there!
Here's a couple of more examples, and this is very random, as I only skim the news reports as I can't stand to watch them for more than a minute or two. But last night on Channel 2 they showed a live spot of a reporter, clearly shivering and wanting to get off the air (probably wanting to get the hell out of there), who was kept on the air as the anchors kept peppering her with questions. Now at first I interpreted the shivering as fear, because the reporter was telling about a close "Chuck Henry" type call. But apparently it was freezing ass cold where she was, Running Springs or wherever, and so it may have just been that, the cold. I suspect it was a little of both. And for what? So we can know that it's really dangerous up there and that people should get the hell out? From what I know, people had already gotten the hell out, a long time before. So why the hell are the news vans still up there? I can't imagine they are helping fight the fire.
Which brings us to our next example, a man being interviewed at a San Bernardino shelter who was a bit confused and bitter that no water dropping helicopters could be deployed to fight the fire, yet the area was flooded with TV helicopters. Well, it's a damn good question. If the conditions are such that no rescue operations can be employed, shouldn't every one else be grounded? What's more important here, getting control of a wild fire, or providing continuing up close coverage of the wild fire?
And if residents are not allowed to return home to prepare for evacuations (this happened in Claremont, if you just happened to out for a party that night and got back too late, you were shit out of luck), why the hell are news vans allowed in the same neighborhood? Just so some fat ass in a secure area can go, "Mabel, get a load of that!"
It's absolutely perverse. Here's something to chew on. The next time a disaster strikes, like a wild fire, make the news organizations follow the same rules as everyone else. The coverage might be drastically different, but the pertinent information will remain the same, since really all the available sources for this are emergency workers and residents. Amazingly enough the media will survive, even with these limitations.
But the good news is that Channel 9 has now finally stopped its 24/7 coverage of the fire, now we can only hope that they start reporting some of the other news, and sports for gods sake, that is not tied to the hip of a disaster.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
AT LONG LAST, A NEW POST
I've been away for a while and it's not that I've become so ashamed that I supported the losing side in the recall election, I've just been busy doing "other" stuff, mainly, at long last (I've been using that term alot lately), the official Desperation Squad web site. I'm very excited about it. With the help of old friend Mark Givens we got a huge site and a registered domain name and since then I have been almost exclusively devoted to putting up at least a nominally coherent site, and that simply takes lots of time. But there is so much good stuff on there even now, and we have only just started.
It's not like I've fallen off the face of the earth or anything. But with an ever-evolving web site, my continuing D-Squad email updates, a second blog - the Panda Man Gig Report, and ever increasing pay work at the Pasadena Weekly, I just haven't had the time to throw down any of my patented and ludicrous rants for posterity, so I will quickly run down some things that have been festering like an infected boil in my twisted mind.
The Firestorm
Most of my experience with the current out-of-control wildfires will be addressed in the Gig Report, mainly because our show in Pomona on Saturday was interconnected with it. And I haven't written it yet, but that will come soon. However, in the aftermath of the scary Claremont blaze, of which I just got word that at least one of my friends - good old Norm - lost his cabin in Palmer Canyon, I noticed some peculiar things. Mainly people still jogging on the streets of Claremont, despite the fact that ashes continue to swirl around us and that the air quality has to be worse than even the worst Stage 1 smog alert that could be thrust upon us. I mean, I will go running at the drop of a hat, it is something I am almost compelled to do, even in intense 100+ heat. But even I know enough to stay off the road for a few days. It drives me crazy but, then again, I'm not sitting in a Red Cross evacuation center awaiting the fate of my property either. I think I can maintain for a few days, until the fire is out and the air clears. Honestly, I can't imagine what these runners are thinking.
I can't imagine what a fucked-up (possibly serial) arsonist is thinking either, and believe me, the whole idea of "domestic terrorism" (and it's strange how I haven't heard that term used in describing this nightmare) gets racheted up a few notches in this instance. I'm not much on capital punishment but if they ever find this person or persons even burning them at the stake would not be good enough for them. When I heard what happened on Saturday in San Bernadino, when people woke up in the morning having no idea they had spent their last night sleeping in their own bed, it just made me absolutely sick. I realized that everything can go just like that - life, property, relationships - and what Warren Zevon said on the Letterman show, "Enjoy every sandwich," is just about as sage as advice can be.
Of course, there is plenty to be said about urban sprawl and the strategy of fire suppression and what exactly are we doing building homes so far up into the mountains and so forth. But for it all to go just because some fucking jack-ass has determined that weather and wind conditions are at an optimum level to wreak fiery destruction - well, that is just too much for me to comprehend. These are innocent people, good hard-working Americans, families with pets and my heart goes out to them and I sure wish I could do more than tap at a keyboard and perhaps later I can. But I stand humbled by the whole hideous affair, I really do, just absolutely scared to death of the whole thing.
The Other Firestorms: Shaq & Kobe
Of course, tonight is the Laker season opener, and who would have thought that the most irrelevant people in town would be those two big babies Shaq and Kobe. Wake up losers! Thousands of people have lost their homes and all of their possessions. No one gives a crap what your opinion of a team player is or if you can get a few extra million dollars for your collection. How about this? Why don't one of you donate an entire season's salary to the fire victims, huh? And then go out and play your game, which, believe me, very few people outside your cudgel care about.
And, anyways, what kind of bizarre world is this when Gary Payton, for crying out loud, becomes a voice of reason?
The Other Firestorms: Iraq
If the fires can do anything for us, maybe they can help us relate to a world of constant threat and danger, of living each day wondering if some rocket-propelled grenade or suicide bomber will take away your property and loved ones. Eventually, the fires in So Cal will be out and things will return to normal. In Iraq, at least within the Sunni triangle, things may never return to a state resembling normal.
Then the Rashid Hotel gets bombed, with Wolfowitz in it, and he comes out all shaken and proclaims the enemy is a bunch of "losers." Oh yeah?
Wolfy, let me tell you what a loser is. A loser is someone who roots against the home team at the old ballpark, a loser is someone who gambles away all of the family's food money, a loser is someone who gets voted off the "Survivor" island, a loser is someone making self-serving statements in the face of destrcution and strategy (see above). In fact, now that I read these qualifications back, it appears that you fit that last statement. You, Wolfy, are the loser, and all of your think tank buddies who thought it be as easy as picking oranges in the sunshine to take over Iraq for your own nation-building purposes.
What, you didn't think they were going to fight back? You didn't think they were going to try and protect their interests? Sure, maybe the "shock and awe" provided enough cover to send the ruling party and its supporters scrambling into the desert and make you think it was safe to send your corporate engineers over in hard hats to "rebuild". Sure, maybe a Gallup poll gives everyone the impression that Iraqi's are supportive of our intentions and that anything is better than a Hussein dictatorship. How the hell can any American really know what the hell is going on in a country thousands of miles away when they barely know what's going on on their own street? And you blame the media? Listen, just as you and Rummy and all the others smugly assured us that you knew everything and that we bozos know nothing about conducting foreign policy, why don't you admit you don't know squat about how the media works. I just now logged into Fox News and in their headlines bracket is not one "feel good" story about Iraq. Here are the headlines:
2 CIA contractors die in Afghanistan
Car bomb kills four in Fallujah
'Hollow Force' Fears for U.S. Military
President: Freedom still has enemies
This is not the "liberal" media here, it is Fox News, champion of you and the whole Bush administration, but yet an organization that clearly knows that if it does not report "conflict" it will dry up faster than a worm caught on a sunsoaked sidewalk. Media is about satisfying advertisers, period. It is not a government mouthpiece. Well, maybe in Hussein's Iraq it was, but you know, that's what we're fighting for, am I right? A "free" press. So don't think the media is going to ferret out the good news for you guys any time soon. That's for the schlubs at the White House PR office. In any case, if I was a journalist in Iraq I doubt I would stray too far from a safe area just to do the administration's propaganda bidding, not if I wanted all of my limbs anyway.
Wolfy, you are lucky to be alive, loser.
At Long Last, The Good News
And it's not just the Yankees losing the Series, although that was sweet, sweet, sweet. It's my long time friend and band member Jeff Hayes and his girlfriend Carol announcing the birth of a very healthy baby boy, Roman.
It doesn't get any better than that. But I would say that. I'm not on diaper duty!
I've been away for a while and it's not that I've become so ashamed that I supported the losing side in the recall election, I've just been busy doing "other" stuff, mainly, at long last (I've been using that term alot lately), the official Desperation Squad web site. I'm very excited about it. With the help of old friend Mark Givens we got a huge site and a registered domain name and since then I have been almost exclusively devoted to putting up at least a nominally coherent site, and that simply takes lots of time. But there is so much good stuff on there even now, and we have only just started.
It's not like I've fallen off the face of the earth or anything. But with an ever-evolving web site, my continuing D-Squad email updates, a second blog - the Panda Man Gig Report, and ever increasing pay work at the Pasadena Weekly, I just haven't had the time to throw down any of my patented and ludicrous rants for posterity, so I will quickly run down some things that have been festering like an infected boil in my twisted mind.
The Firestorm
Most of my experience with the current out-of-control wildfires will be addressed in the Gig Report, mainly because our show in Pomona on Saturday was interconnected with it. And I haven't written it yet, but that will come soon. However, in the aftermath of the scary Claremont blaze, of which I just got word that at least one of my friends - good old Norm - lost his cabin in Palmer Canyon, I noticed some peculiar things. Mainly people still jogging on the streets of Claremont, despite the fact that ashes continue to swirl around us and that the air quality has to be worse than even the worst Stage 1 smog alert that could be thrust upon us. I mean, I will go running at the drop of a hat, it is something I am almost compelled to do, even in intense 100+ heat. But even I know enough to stay off the road for a few days. It drives me crazy but, then again, I'm not sitting in a Red Cross evacuation center awaiting the fate of my property either. I think I can maintain for a few days, until the fire is out and the air clears. Honestly, I can't imagine what these runners are thinking.
I can't imagine what a fucked-up (possibly serial) arsonist is thinking either, and believe me, the whole idea of "domestic terrorism" (and it's strange how I haven't heard that term used in describing this nightmare) gets racheted up a few notches in this instance. I'm not much on capital punishment but if they ever find this person or persons even burning them at the stake would not be good enough for them. When I heard what happened on Saturday in San Bernadino, when people woke up in the morning having no idea they had spent their last night sleeping in their own bed, it just made me absolutely sick. I realized that everything can go just like that - life, property, relationships - and what Warren Zevon said on the Letterman show, "Enjoy every sandwich," is just about as sage as advice can be.
Of course, there is plenty to be said about urban sprawl and the strategy of fire suppression and what exactly are we doing building homes so far up into the mountains and so forth. But for it all to go just because some fucking jack-ass has determined that weather and wind conditions are at an optimum level to wreak fiery destruction - well, that is just too much for me to comprehend. These are innocent people, good hard-working Americans, families with pets and my heart goes out to them and I sure wish I could do more than tap at a keyboard and perhaps later I can. But I stand humbled by the whole hideous affair, I really do, just absolutely scared to death of the whole thing.
The Other Firestorms: Shaq & Kobe
Of course, tonight is the Laker season opener, and who would have thought that the most irrelevant people in town would be those two big babies Shaq and Kobe. Wake up losers! Thousands of people have lost their homes and all of their possessions. No one gives a crap what your opinion of a team player is or if you can get a few extra million dollars for your collection. How about this? Why don't one of you donate an entire season's salary to the fire victims, huh? And then go out and play your game, which, believe me, very few people outside your cudgel care about.
And, anyways, what kind of bizarre world is this when Gary Payton, for crying out loud, becomes a voice of reason?
The Other Firestorms: Iraq
If the fires can do anything for us, maybe they can help us relate to a world of constant threat and danger, of living each day wondering if some rocket-propelled grenade or suicide bomber will take away your property and loved ones. Eventually, the fires in So Cal will be out and things will return to normal. In Iraq, at least within the Sunni triangle, things may never return to a state resembling normal.
Then the Rashid Hotel gets bombed, with Wolfowitz in it, and he comes out all shaken and proclaims the enemy is a bunch of "losers." Oh yeah?
Wolfy, let me tell you what a loser is. A loser is someone who roots against the home team at the old ballpark, a loser is someone who gambles away all of the family's food money, a loser is someone who gets voted off the "Survivor" island, a loser is someone making self-serving statements in the face of destrcution and strategy (see above). In fact, now that I read these qualifications back, it appears that you fit that last statement. You, Wolfy, are the loser, and all of your think tank buddies who thought it be as easy as picking oranges in the sunshine to take over Iraq for your own nation-building purposes.
What, you didn't think they were going to fight back? You didn't think they were going to try and protect their interests? Sure, maybe the "shock and awe" provided enough cover to send the ruling party and its supporters scrambling into the desert and make you think it was safe to send your corporate engineers over in hard hats to "rebuild". Sure, maybe a Gallup poll gives everyone the impression that Iraqi's are supportive of our intentions and that anything is better than a Hussein dictatorship. How the hell can any American really know what the hell is going on in a country thousands of miles away when they barely know what's going on on their own street? And you blame the media? Listen, just as you and Rummy and all the others smugly assured us that you knew everything and that we bozos know nothing about conducting foreign policy, why don't you admit you don't know squat about how the media works. I just now logged into Fox News and in their headlines bracket is not one "feel good" story about Iraq. Here are the headlines:
2 CIA contractors die in Afghanistan
Car bomb kills four in Fallujah
'Hollow Force' Fears for U.S. Military
President: Freedom still has enemies
This is not the "liberal" media here, it is Fox News, champion of you and the whole Bush administration, but yet an organization that clearly knows that if it does not report "conflict" it will dry up faster than a worm caught on a sunsoaked sidewalk. Media is about satisfying advertisers, period. It is not a government mouthpiece. Well, maybe in Hussein's Iraq it was, but you know, that's what we're fighting for, am I right? A "free" press. So don't think the media is going to ferret out the good news for you guys any time soon. That's for the schlubs at the White House PR office. In any case, if I was a journalist in Iraq I doubt I would stray too far from a safe area just to do the administration's propaganda bidding, not if I wanted all of my limbs anyway.
Wolfy, you are lucky to be alive, loser.
At Long Last, The Good News
And it's not just the Yankees losing the Series, although that was sweet, sweet, sweet. It's my long time friend and band member Jeff Hayes and his girlfriend Carol announcing the birth of a very healthy baby boy, Roman.
It doesn't get any better than that. But I would say that. I'm not on diaper duty!
AT LONG LAST, THE TEASE-O-RAMA REVIEW
Here it is:
It's the big moment at Junior's bachelor party. The entertainment has arrived and the rumpus room, packed to the gills with testosterone-engorged alpha males, is eagerly awaiting a hired slut with store-bought boobs that they can throw their hard-earned money at, just so she will allow them to touch her "there" and perhaps, later in private and for a good deal more dough, she will touch them back in a more intimate fashion. The tension is so thick you couldn't dent it with a Cutco knife.
The door opens and amid a rush of sweltering anticipation a lone woman enters, the indomitable Satan's Angel, her body replete with custom-designed body-enhancing regalia shielded by two gargantuan fans made of faux avian feathers. When the music starts and Satan's Angel starts to strut her considerable stuff, there are loud and untenable gasps from the mob, not because of what she's doing, but because of who she is: a sixty-plus matron well past her prime, with huge rolls of fat rippling like a rock skipping across a pond. She knows what she's doing but no one can bear to watch - this isn't quite what they had prepared for - and even if she had the desire to comply with their carnal wishes, which she assuredly does not, they would likely run out of the room with their hands over their mouths trying not to vomit. That's one bodily fluid they hadn't counted on.
Burlesque is art. It has all the trappings of immorality but that is just a mirage, a selling point to lure you in. Burlesque "back in the day" was quite racy and hush-hush but that day was close to one hundred years ago. Nowadays you can see more body parts on network television than a canny burlesque dancer will show you in her routine. Then there's that corny music and wasn't that a guy running around in a G-string, getting his ass smacked? Horrible, simply horrible, a disgrace to anyone who has ever rented pink eye porno at Mondo Video.
To experience burlesque today requires that you have to forget everything that modern extreme society has taught you. You have to convince yourself that a woman's body and what she does with it does not necessarily lead to an orgy of unmitigated salaciousness. You have to put on hold images of tummy-tucked and air-brushed swimsuit models as the only template allowed for women who want to express themselves. You have to develop an affinity for culture, for nuance, for subtlety - sort of.
If this sounds like a bit much to put on someone's plate, perhaps that is the point. Burlesque, as presented at the 3rd Annual Tease-o-rama, is as much quaint and old-fashioned as it is raucous and incendiary. Burlesque, to be successful, has to stay true to its vaudeville roots, which means that many notions that we have become accustomed to, like bachelor parties where the talent blurs the boundaries between entertainment and prostitution, are strictly verboten. You are free to get aroused at the performance, in fact it's happily encouraged, just realize that it is something you'll have to take home with you.
Tease-o-rama can be accurately described as the World Cup(s) of burlesque, with dozens upon dozens of acts both large and small - literally - sharing their talents with an audience eager for cockeyed camp, coruscating costuming, delightful dancing, perky pasties and sensational strip-tease. If you are in on the joke Tease-o-rama is as good as it gets. How many shows can keep a crowd at bay for four hours plus and not resort to Penthouse magazine shenanigans? Answer: not many, except when the acts are as diverse and brilliant as Tease-o-rama's.
The performances were too numerous to mention but I'll throw out a sample: The Fat Bottom Revue, with it's stable of plus-size honeys; The Wau Wau Sisters, who smoke cigarettes and guzzle beer while contorting themselves on a trapeze; Burlesque As It Was, who boast a Charlie McCarthy puppet and a one-armed one-legged wheelchair-bound dancer; Satanica Szandor, who dives head first into a bed of crushed glass while a man plays an accordion and trumpet at the same time; Lavender Cabaret, whose gracefulness and beauty was a stark but welcome contrast to the carnival atmosphere; the Baggy Pants Comics, whose stale routines masked their on-the-spot ability to cover for a delinquent act with an unwanted juggler; Kitten on the Keys, who adroitly managed to endure the marathon program with panache and verve, including a demure version of "Anarchy in the U.K."; Dita Von Teese, Marilyn Manson's squeeze, easily the Cecil B DeMille of burlesque, complete with candles and bubble bath.
But it was the star performance by Satan's Angel, the former Bob Hope USO bathing beauty, who came out of twenty-year retirement and shrugged off any notion of shame, who waltzed in and shook everyone to the rafters, and prompted a standing ovation from the swells of other performers who could only hope to achieve her iconic status. It was a love-fest, is what it was. That Satan's Angel looked a bit ragged around the edges made it all the more satisfying as she showed she still has all the moves left in her bag of tricks, and then some. Where some of the women performed with a bit of hesitation, Satan's Angel laughed in defiance, perhaps recalling a day when combat-weary GI's took to her flaming tassels and roared. And she's still got it.
Still, you have to wonder if anyone besides a few hundred in-the-know hipsters and genre aspirants can appreciate what's being done here. The bachelor party/Deja Vu strip club crowd would assuredly be demanding a refund, they having no concern for art and such. And that in itself is a shame, because when it is all given away, and not nearly for free, there is an unfortunate breakdown in our priorities. We should be encouraging this, even if the modern tide of extreme everything keeps it from storming to the front of the line.
Thankfully, Tease-o-rama III was enough of a success to assure another year of growth and new talent. Will America grow with it?
Here it is:
It's the big moment at Junior's bachelor party. The entertainment has arrived and the rumpus room, packed to the gills with testosterone-engorged alpha males, is eagerly awaiting a hired slut with store-bought boobs that they can throw their hard-earned money at, just so she will allow them to touch her "there" and perhaps, later in private and for a good deal more dough, she will touch them back in a more intimate fashion. The tension is so thick you couldn't dent it with a Cutco knife.
The door opens and amid a rush of sweltering anticipation a lone woman enters, the indomitable Satan's Angel, her body replete with custom-designed body-enhancing regalia shielded by two gargantuan fans made of faux avian feathers. When the music starts and Satan's Angel starts to strut her considerable stuff, there are loud and untenable gasps from the mob, not because of what she's doing, but because of who she is: a sixty-plus matron well past her prime, with huge rolls of fat rippling like a rock skipping across a pond. She knows what she's doing but no one can bear to watch - this isn't quite what they had prepared for - and even if she had the desire to comply with their carnal wishes, which she assuredly does not, they would likely run out of the room with their hands over their mouths trying not to vomit. That's one bodily fluid they hadn't counted on.
Burlesque is art. It has all the trappings of immorality but that is just a mirage, a selling point to lure you in. Burlesque "back in the day" was quite racy and hush-hush but that day was close to one hundred years ago. Nowadays you can see more body parts on network television than a canny burlesque dancer will show you in her routine. Then there's that corny music and wasn't that a guy running around in a G-string, getting his ass smacked? Horrible, simply horrible, a disgrace to anyone who has ever rented pink eye porno at Mondo Video.
To experience burlesque today requires that you have to forget everything that modern extreme society has taught you. You have to convince yourself that a woman's body and what she does with it does not necessarily lead to an orgy of unmitigated salaciousness. You have to put on hold images of tummy-tucked and air-brushed swimsuit models as the only template allowed for women who want to express themselves. You have to develop an affinity for culture, for nuance, for subtlety - sort of.
If this sounds like a bit much to put on someone's plate, perhaps that is the point. Burlesque, as presented at the 3rd Annual Tease-o-rama, is as much quaint and old-fashioned as it is raucous and incendiary. Burlesque, to be successful, has to stay true to its vaudeville roots, which means that many notions that we have become accustomed to, like bachelor parties where the talent blurs the boundaries between entertainment and prostitution, are strictly verboten. You are free to get aroused at the performance, in fact it's happily encouraged, just realize that it is something you'll have to take home with you.
Tease-o-rama can be accurately described as the World Cup(s) of burlesque, with dozens upon dozens of acts both large and small - literally - sharing their talents with an audience eager for cockeyed camp, coruscating costuming, delightful dancing, perky pasties and sensational strip-tease. If you are in on the joke Tease-o-rama is as good as it gets. How many shows can keep a crowd at bay for four hours plus and not resort to Penthouse magazine shenanigans? Answer: not many, except when the acts are as diverse and brilliant as Tease-o-rama's.
The performances were too numerous to mention but I'll throw out a sample: The Fat Bottom Revue, with it's stable of plus-size honeys; The Wau Wau Sisters, who smoke cigarettes and guzzle beer while contorting themselves on a trapeze; Burlesque As It Was, who boast a Charlie McCarthy puppet and a one-armed one-legged wheelchair-bound dancer; Satanica Szandor, who dives head first into a bed of crushed glass while a man plays an accordion and trumpet at the same time; Lavender Cabaret, whose gracefulness and beauty was a stark but welcome contrast to the carnival atmosphere; the Baggy Pants Comics, whose stale routines masked their on-the-spot ability to cover for a delinquent act with an unwanted juggler; Kitten on the Keys, who adroitly managed to endure the marathon program with panache and verve, including a demure version of "Anarchy in the U.K."; Dita Von Teese, Marilyn Manson's squeeze, easily the Cecil B DeMille of burlesque, complete with candles and bubble bath.
But it was the star performance by Satan's Angel, the former Bob Hope USO bathing beauty, who came out of twenty-year retirement and shrugged off any notion of shame, who waltzed in and shook everyone to the rafters, and prompted a standing ovation from the swells of other performers who could only hope to achieve her iconic status. It was a love-fest, is what it was. That Satan's Angel looked a bit ragged around the edges made it all the more satisfying as she showed she still has all the moves left in her bag of tricks, and then some. Where some of the women performed with a bit of hesitation, Satan's Angel laughed in defiance, perhaps recalling a day when combat-weary GI's took to her flaming tassels and roared. And she's still got it.
Still, you have to wonder if anyone besides a few hundred in-the-know hipsters and genre aspirants can appreciate what's being done here. The bachelor party/Deja Vu strip club crowd would assuredly be demanding a refund, they having no concern for art and such. And that in itself is a shame, because when it is all given away, and not nearly for free, there is an unfortunate breakdown in our priorities. We should be encouraging this, even if the modern tide of extreme everything keeps it from storming to the front of the line.
Thankfully, Tease-o-rama III was enough of a success to assure another year of growth and new talent. Will America grow with it?
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