Posted on 05/10/2003 2:03:04 PM PDT by Pokey78
WASHINGTON
Pressured by Christian groups, Wal-Mart announced last week that it would no longer carry Maxim, Stuff and FHM, the British laddie magazines that boil life down to a simple earthy equation of babes, beer, gear, cars, sports, abs and how to deal with a unibrow.
It's tough for the wholesome to know where to draw the line against the racy. F.A.O. Schwarz is still displaying Lingerie Barbies wearing merry widow bustiers, peekaboo peignoirs, black satin bra and panties with pale blue bows, stockings and garters.
Except for Lingerie Barbie No. 6. There were so many protests from parents about "Porn Barbie," as one L.A. dad dubs her, with her waist-length red hair, silver satin teddy with black lace trim, textured stockings with black seams, black bondage stilettos and black "soft ribbons to gently hold your Barbie doll," as an ownership manual puts it, that many of the toy store branches decided to hide her behind the counter and admit her existence only if a customer requests her by number.
"I really don't want the experience of looking at a Maxim cover and shopping with my 2-year-old for a Wiggly Worm to be the same," said one creeped-out dad.
Still, it's funny that Wal-Mart decided to censor laddie magazines the very same week the Bush administration soared with laddie politics.
The fabulously successful British glossies were inspired by the American "guy culture" of "Top Gun," "Animal House" and "Cheers."
The hormonal graphics and absence of erudition were designed to appeal to what one media expert called "high-tech cave men."
The May Maxim offers a "Wingman Training Manual" for "trolling for the ladies": "What kind of friend are you? Would you lie like a rug, fight like a man, and willingly take home a clock-stopper for the sake of a pal?"
The magazines represent the most extraordinary collection of testosterone, of crank-it-up, raging-rhinoceros attitude ever with the exception of when Rummy dines alone.
The Republicans have been exuding that self-satisfied air of masculine conquest, that Maxim bravado of "If it doesn't come with a side of meat, it ain't breakfast," and "Drinking a diet soda doesn't make you gay, but it does make you look gay."
And the Democrats have been flailing against it, harping on the cost of President Maverick's "Op Gun" moment that forced an aircraft carrier to make lazy circles so the California coastline wouldn't pop up behind his head.
The White House admitted that its original stated reason for using the Viking jet instead of the presidential helicopter that the ship was too far offshore was bogus.
The real reason for the stunt was that the president wanted to have fun and film a campaign ad.
Lisa Schiffren, a Quayle speechwriter who wrote the "Murphy Brown" rant, gushed in a Wall Street Journal piece entitled "Hey, Flyboy" that President Bush in a flight suit was "really hot . . . as in virile, sexy and powerful."
She polled her soccer-mom girlfriends in Manhattan and got the same reaction. "He's a hottie," said one. "Hot? SO HOT!!!!! THAT UNIFORM!" said another. And a third panted, "That swagger. George Bush in a pair of jeans is a treat to watch." (If it gets any hotter, Wal-Mart may have to ban The Journal.)
From facing off with Anita Hill and Al Gore, Republicans know America prefers winning, even under dubious pretenses, to whining.
The Democrats never had the nerve to press the administration on the right stuff when the Bushies exploited 9/11 to hype the case against Saddam, or when the president and vice president cloaked themselves in the mantle of Caesar with their pre-emption policy, or when the Bush crowd kept all its empire plans secret, or when Dick Cheney repaid the favor and gave Halliburton ever-bigger windfalls on Iraqi contracts.
So they carp about the president spending too much on a photo op, like a nagging wife upset that hubby went out with the guys and spent too much money on gadgets. They don't know how to combat the Bushies' visceral belief in action over explanation, juice over justification.
The laddie ethos may be too much for Wal-Mart, but it suits Karl Rove just fine.
From Oxblog:
IMMUTABLE LAWS OF DOWD1. Ashcroft never deserves credit.
2. Offering constructive solutions to problems, instead of whining endlessly about them, is a sign of weakness.
3. The People Magazine principle: all political phenomena can be explained with reference solely to caricatures of the personalities involved ("Dubya" is stupid; "Poppy" is an aristocrat; Cheney is macho-man; etc.). Any reference to the common good or even to old-fashioned politicking is, like, so passe.
4. It is much better to be cute than coherent.
5. Maureen knows best. Her long years as a columnist (doing basically what your great-aunt Tillie does in the nursing home bull sessions, but getting paid for it) have given her deep insight into foreign relations, politics, welfare, the Constitution, and all other topics. To disagree with Maureen in any way is not only a sign of being wrong, it's a hallmark of pure evil...or at least membership in the NRA, which is pretty much the same thing.
6. It is usually possible and always desirable to name-drop and name-call in the same sentence.
7. The particulars of my consumer-driven, shamefully self-involved life reveal universal truths.
Explanation of the Dowd/Douglas connection: by Miss Marple- 2/11/03
Ms. Dowd was escorted around New York and DC for many months by one Michael Douglas of Hollywood fame and fortune. She got to go to all the best parties, was photographed for the tabloids, and was picking out a gown to wear at the Oscars. Of course, Michael had become interested in her during Clinton's impeachment, when she had written some very anti-Clinton columns. After a few weeks of the Michael treatment, she began to write anti-Starr, ant-Newt columns, ignoring Clinton.
Then Clinton was acquitted by the Senate. In an amazing coincidence, Michael Douglas dropped Ms. Dowd like a hot potato, and instead picked up a hot tomato, Catherin Zeta-Jones, who subsequently bore him a son and they were married.
Ms. Dowd cannot get over her tragic loss. Her columns are increasingly anti-Bush, in the hope of impressing her lost love, Michael.
In addition, we think she has a secret crush on the President and is trying to get him to pay attention to her. Ha!
Whereas ol' Mo prefers the shopping cart chic green trash bag look. And a fifth of jack, a sixpack of Evereadys, and some Michael Douglas videos...
They don't know how to combat the Bushies' visceral belief in action over explanation, juice over justification.Well, yeah. This is actually somewhat true.
Guinness record-holder, "World's most protracted nervous breakdown."
And this is coming from one of the loudest professional whiners in America.
She polled her soccer-mom girlfriends in Manhattan and got the same reaction. "He's a hottie," said one. "Hot? SO HOT!!!!! THAT UNIFORM!" said another. And a third panted, "That swagger. George Bush in a pair of jeans is a treat to watch." (If it gets any hotter, Wal-Mart may have to ban The Journal.
And Dowdy has no one.
This paragraph is so...like...Freudian. Am I the only one who sees this? Shut up Dowd!
And Dowdy has no one.
I know just the man for her.
Rush says she gargles with Jackie D. Ha!
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