my faith in humanity takes another blow March 17, 2006
Two things happened to me yesterday. First, I was at a play, where a young girl (probably about 15) was dressed, well, like a typical young girl. However, this girl was particularly well endowed. As she talked with a group of 15-16 year old boys at intermission, I thought to myself, “I know what they’re thinking about.” Then I got upset with myself. I was prejudging them. Maybe they saw beyond her physical attractiveness and were really interested in her as a person. Fie fie, for shame, Rachel. Judge not, lest ye be judged.
Then, as she walked away, I kept my eyes on the group of boys. They were laughing at something. Steady, Rachel, they’re probably just talking about a recent South Park episode. Then the boy on the end looked up at the girl (who was now about 10 yards away and engaged in a new conversation), and did the universal sign for “well endowed girl” on his chest. The other boys cracked up, and the boy continuted with variations of his motion until the house lights went down.
Coupled with this dissappointing episode, I happened to get my hands on my first issue of “Maxim” yesterday. Now, cynical as I am, I, for some reason, had believed the hype that this magazine was a more self-mocking, more ironically humorous version of your standard girlie magazine, with less revealing pictures. Yes, the women were mostly clothed, but I don’t know who’s calling that poor excuse for writing “humor.” Pathetic formulas such as “combine a dirty joke with a cleverly quirky contrasting statement” littered the pages of this piece of journalistic trash. “Usually the only dancing we like involves a pole or Patrick Swayze…” Oh, how clever. And they even throw in a “retro” angle for fun! Blah blah blah. It’s as if this were written by a kid who thought he was hilarious when he was a Junior in high school, and no one ever told him differently, so he just keep on doing it.
Yosef reminded me that I am spoiled bythe journalistic and stylistic excellence of my favorite magazine, “WIRED”. He’s right. The contrast in writing style and tone is just overwhelming. And then I remember that most men out there don’t even know what “WIRED” is, but can’t wait until Jesscia Alba’s on the cover of “Maxim” again.
commodification of sex+mediocre writing, 1; Rachel, 0.
just because i didn’t write for the New York Times doesn’t mean you have the right to crticize my writing. It may be trashy and stupid, but i’ve learned to write to my audience