Context is King

Disclaimer: I am wholeheartedly aboard the #MeToo train. Hell, I’m a feminist snowflake, if that’s the language you want to use. Our sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends deserve better, quite frankly. However, I also acknowledge when “cancel culture” goes too far. Political Correctness usually has the noblest of intentions, but now and then it gets in the way, and creates division where there has previously been none. Case in point: the song “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

Watch this video.

Here are the first two times this song was ever recorded for distribution, from the 1949 film “Neptune’s Daughter.” We start with Ester Williams and Ricardo Freakin’ Montalban (!) doing the version we all know…the wolfish male predator and his hesitant quarry. Okay, yeah. It looks really bad. When he grabs her arm…repeatedly…to prevent her escape…oof. Not a good look. At least in the radio versions, like Dean Martin’s 1959 rendition, or the (far superior) Margaret Whiting and Johnny Mercer version from 1949, we don’t actually see the couple. We can imagine that she really does want to stay, but feels guilty, because people back in the late-40’s and 50’s were completely repressed, and slut-shaming was rampant…like, he’s almost doing her a favor in making the decision for her. Still, when you see Ricardo essentially chase her around the room, it’s a little unsettling to modern eyes.

And then we get to observe the other couple, and, uh…well, now!

I mean, come on! Showing her KNEE! Like some shameless HUSSY!

From the same film, we see Red Skelton doing a cartoonishly bad accent, and the tables have turned…his lusty adversary is Betty Garrett, and she demands, like any liberated woman, to have her needs met, by God. Years later, in her powerful “Don’t Leave Me This Way,” Thelma Houston expressed her similar desire thusly:

 

“Oh baby, my heart is full of love and desire for you

Now, come on down and do what you’ve got to do…”

 

Do what you’ve got to do. Yes. TELL HIM, SISTER!! That was the disco-clad Sexual Revolution in the Swinging’ 70’s, but even then, fairly bold. A woman? Demanding sexual gratification from her mate?! CLUTCH THOSE PEARLS!!
“Okay, great…but what’s your point? That we should forgive Montalban’s character for his aggressive courtship?” Well, no. Not entirely. But we have to realize that A) it was a wayyyyy different time and B) the scene exists primarily as a way to set up the much more comedic scene which follows. The Red Skelton stuff would have been somewhat humorous in and of itself…but after seeing the “male” version, it’s even more impactful when Betty Garrett throws her conquest on the couch…sits on him…and turns out the light. She’s in complete control, and there’s not a damn thing Red can do about it. And as a viewer, we all sort of agree that he really doesn’t want to anyway. And, ultimately, as things tended to do in the screwball comedies of yesteryear, everything worked out, and both couples found love. Here’s the official “Neptune’s Daughter” synopsis from IMDB:
 
Scatterbrained Betty Barrett mistakes masseur Jack Spratt for Jose O’Rourke, the captain of the South American polo team. Spratt goes along with the charade, but the situation becomes more complicated when they fall in love. Meanwhile, Betty’s sensible older sister Eve fears Betty’s heart will be broken when Jose returns to South America. She arranges to meet with the real O’Rourke and love soon blossoms between them as well.
 
This brief description leaves out that Eve is an aquatic dancer (hence the movie’s title) and that she’s actually partnered with a man (the omnipresent Keenan Wynn) in a swimwear company. Partnered. Equal. She is, by 1940’s standards, a powerful, professional woman. Athletic, smart, cunning, and protective of her younger sister. Does it make Ricardo’s Jose O’Rourke (his character’s actual name, and Beto O’Rourke is totally biting his rhyme, yo) any less creepy? Not really. But it implies that Eve was more than capable of fending for herself. And that makes a huge difference; she’s not some meek little virgin, not some naive waif who simply doesn’t stand a chance against the machismo of a young Khan Noonien Singh. (And who among us can truly say that? Not I. I’m a 49-year-old heterosexual male, but if he wanted to chase me ’round the moons of Nibia and ’round the Antares Maelstrom, well, heck…no mere mortal can resist such masculinity, especially if it smells of rich Corinthian leather.) I digress. Okay, in conclusion, I’ll simply say that yeah, “no” means “no.” Still. But it’s never wise to take isolated incidents out of context. Do the homework. Read the entire article. Watch the interview. Consider everything before leaping to condemn. And above all, relax, people. Have fun. Kiss him or her. If they slap your face, stop. Pretty simple.
 
Enjoy the holidays, everyone.

Star Wars Gets You Pregnant

You know how they say that all geeks really think about is sex?  That’s partially true.  But the way we think about sex is often decidedly non-standard.  We even have our thoughts drift to the theoretical nature of it all;  sex, life, the universe itself, and, well…Star Wars. It’s just what we do. I’m not sure where this particular thought came from or why, and I’m surely not the ONLY person who’s ever noticed this, but what follows is my attempt to collect some evidence to support the finer points of this particular theory in greater detail.  Okay.  Deep breath.  Ready?

The Death Star destruction scene in the original Star Wars: A New Hope is really a depiction of baby-makin’.  Fertilization.  Yep.

Let’s begin with the “briefing” scene.  A bunch of dudes sitting and getting a lecture about the exhaust port, which leads to the belly of the beast.  You hit this thing right and she’ll LITERALLY explode.  Uh-huh.  Tell me this isn’t similar to every sex-ed class you ever had, amirite, bros?

And here, gentlemen, is what we call "the clitoris."

And here, gentlemen, is what we call “the clitoris.”

And let’s talk about those “penetrating” snub fighters.  I mean,  there’s the obvious chromosomal suggestion:  Seriously, it ain’t even subtle.  A swarm of tiny fighters are attacking this big orb, trying desperately to penetrate its defenses.  Oh, and those tiny fighters (many of whom will dash themselves against the impenetrable shell) are X-wing and Y-wing fighters.  Yeah.  Like this…

COMIN' AT YA!!

COMIN’ AT YA!!

And also this…

COMIN' AT YA!!

COMIN’ AT YA!!

And then there are the other rather obvious references, such as…ahem…

This is LITERALLY just the tip.

This is LITERALLY just the tip.

Or the plight of poor Porkins.  See, he couldn’t pull out (up) in time, and…yeah.

Even worse?  They came from behind.

Even worse? They came from behind.

And then, when Luke finally delivers his explosive payload down the chute (I feel so terribly filthy writing this) this is the result…

GAH!! GODDAM NUVARING FAILED!!

GAH!! GODDAM NUVARING FAILED!!

Fireworks. That’s what they used to use as a metaphor in old movies and television.  Fireworks!  Also?  You could say that there’s a “Big O” in the sky there.  Whew!  An exciting CLIMAX to this movie, yes?  All those little guys swarming in a long trench and OH MY GOD WHY DID I START WRITING THIS?!?!  Also?  Darth Vader’s helmet.  STOP ME, SOMEONE!!  And the lightsabers.  Ever seen a male dog get frisky?  See, it’s like this little lipstick, and what happens is…NO!!  I REFUSE!!   Princess LAY-ya.  And on and on.

Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not the pervert here.  Lucas  George M. F. Lucas.  He’s the motherfucker.  And think how dirty this movie would’ve been if he’d had access to the CGI.  Thank the maker!

Super. Hawt. (Part Three)

Before we continue with the hottest ladies of Comicdom, some honorable mentions:  Characters that almost made the cut, and why they didn’t…

PSYLOCKE.  Sorry, doll…mental powers are a dime a dozen, especially in the Marvel Universe.  You wear a thong.  Awesome.  Gotta do better than that, though.

BLACK CANARY. Oh, you wear fishnets and can scream really loud?  Congratulations!  You’re a Derby Girl!

STORM. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always found ‘Roro to be stunningly beautiful.  Just not “sexy.”  Much like Cindy Crawford.  Actually, I preferred the punk-rock Storm from the late-eighties romance with Forge.  But then she went back to her Wind-Goddess kimono look and lost me.

SCARLET WITCH. That headpiece/mask thing always made her look like Count Chocula.  Can’t get down with that.

BLACK CAT.  You’re a silver-haired Catwoman wannabe.  Yep. Somebody had to say it.

Okay then!  Without further ado….as Casey Kasem would say, “On with the countdown!” Only these aren’t numbered, so…dang it.  Forgot to number these.

WHITE QUEEN/EMMA FROST

Confession time. I have never seen “X-Men: First Class.”  Missed it in theaters and Redbox.  It ain’t on Netflix.  Thus, I am out of the loop.  As a result, everything in this entry is from my own comic-book research and memory.  So shaddup if it doesn’t jibe with what you know. Moving on…The White Queen first showed up in the pages of the Uncanny X-Men in 1980 as part of the evil Hellfire Club.  Back then she was (like EVERYBODY ELSE, APPARENTLY) a psychic.  When they started rebooting all the story lines a few years back, a lot of characters developed “secondary mutations.”  For example, the Beast actually started looking like a large, blue cat.  Because of course he did.  Anyway, one of  the additional mutations given to The White Queen (now simply Emma Frost because she’s totally good now, you see) was the ability to harden her skin into diamonds or somesuch.   Oh, she also sometimes bangs Cyclops.  Dude has a thing for psychic women.  Weird.  Finally, Emma looks a lot like Jenna Jameson.

The left is a comic panel from 1980. The right is my spank bank, circa 2002. Uncanny, no?

POWER GIRL

Confession part two.  The only reason I know ANYTHING about Power Girl is because sooooo many chicks cosplay as this character, I had to find out how legit she was.  The answer?  Totally.  Also?  Why didn’t they just call her “TitWoman” or “Super Rack” or something?  Seriously!  She was introduced as the Earth-2 Supergirl or aw-fuck-it-close-enough back in 1976 and even then they had her jugs hanging out all over the place.  No logo or design on her costume.  Just cleavage.  As far as I can tell, she’s got all of Supe’s powers, being his Kryptonian cousin (reason number 568 to dislike Superman?  His family was apparently the 1% of Krypton.  THEY all managed to get off the planet.  Wonder how many hard-working farmers and union men did?  Not many.  Fascists.)  And Power Girl once beat down Wonder Woman. So I guess she ain’t all bad, and honestly, deliberate jug-revealing cut-out aside I like her neat, clean uniform.  It’s almost realistic.  Except for, you know…those.

Look at 'em! LOOK AT 'EM!! And keep in mind this was how they drew her 30-plus years ago!

CATWOMAN

Ah, there she is!  You knew I was gonna make you wait, yeah?  Yeah.  Selina Kyle.  One of Batman’s oldest frienemies.  Lover. Adversary.  She is the sexiest hero/villainess in comicdom.  Period.  Because she’s a bad girl.  Because she’s messed-up.  Because she displays the occasional glimpse of conscience. Because she has on at least one occasion whooped Batman’s ass.  Because the leather.  Because  Eartha Kitt.  Because Julie Newmar.  Because Michelle Pfeiffer and Halle Berry and Anne Hathaway. Because the modern day “Hush” storyline.  Because cats are sexy, and black ones can be bad luck.  Just like a woman.  Just like her.  She’s dangerous, and we love that about her.  Guys often complain about how girls always fall for the “bad boy.”  Well fellas, spend some time with Ms. Kyle.  You’ll have a new perspective.

Now KISS!!

MARY JANE WATSON

Yes.  You knew she had to be on this list somewhere, right?  Even though the list is in no particular order, Catwoman and MJ had to be near the end.  It’s for the same reason that the milk is always at the back of the store…you have to walk all the way back to get it, and might be tempted to pick up a few other items along the way.  And no, my fascination with Mary Jane is NOT because we share a last name.  That would almost be gross. Almost.

Hey, it was good enough for the King...

No, Ms. Watson makes the list because she encompasses so many of the great things about the women on this list.  The confidence of She-Hulk.  The attainability of Gwen Stacy.  The spunk and attitude of Catwoman.  Plus, she’s a redhead.  And since day one, artists have drawn her to be as absolutely foxy as possible.

Exhibit A:

Wow...Lindsay Lohan used to be HOT!!

Exhibit B:

My Spider-sense tells me there a Chai Latte nearby...

Aaaaaand Exhibit C:

There really are no words...

Take a good look at that last image.  She’s sad, because her man has to rush off to risk his life to keep everyone safe. (Also because her Chai Latte is getting cold.  Seriously, chick loves her some hot beverages!)  But she’s proud of him, as she wears his logo on her t-shirt.  She’s also sad because the paper keeps calling him a menace when HE’S CLEARLY NOT!!  Basically, MJ is every wife of every deployed soldier, cop, or firefighter.  She’s proud of him and scared to death for him.  And she’s tough enough on her own, too.  How many bad guys have tried to use her as bait to catch ol’ Web-Head? (Um, sorry Gwen!) How many attempts have been made on her life by revenge-seeking psychos?  And yet never once does she run away or say “Fuck this!  I love you Peter, but I don’t wanna get killed by some loser with a ski mask and bad monologues.  Not worth it.  Bye.”  Nope.  A keeper, this one. She is hot.  She knew Petey in high school when he was a wimp, and maybe even loved him anyway.  She’s tough and funny and GOOD GOD, LOOK AT HER!!  She’s the girl next door.  She’s almost out of your class, Tiger.  But when she smiles at you…oh, boy.  Oh, boy.  She is love. She is sex.  She is loyalty and friendship.  She’s human.  She’s the best.

(Ed. Note: The artist responsible for that iconic final Mary Jane panel is J. Scott Campbell.  He draws Disney princesses that will make you hafta excuse yourself to your jack-sock.  Check him out here.  You’ll thank me.)

Super. Hawt. (Part Two)

Okay then.  Let’s get to it! And we’ll start with one of the greatest paragons of the Empowered Woman in any medium.  No, not Wonder Woman.  We’ve already been over this, people.  No, I’m talkin’ bout…

SHE-HULK.

Yes, her name is vaguely sexist.  Considering that her debut was in 1980, after a decade of women’s-lib protests and ERA debate, they could’ve done better.  But they also could’ve done MUCH worse.  Hulkette?  Hulkina?  At least “SHE” was front and center, and very much countered the “HE-man” mentality so prevalent before men learned to enjoy quiche. Her back-story went like this: Jennifer Walters, successful attorney and daughter of an LA County Sheriff, also happens to be the cousin of one Dr. Bruce Banner.  You already see where this is going.  She gets shot by mobsters the same day ol’ cousin Bruce happens to be in town.  She needs a blood transfusion, their biological DNA and blood types match, so ta-dah!  Bruce’s blood saves her!  But then mobsters try and finish her off and she gets mad and BLA-DAMMM!!!  She-Hulk.  But what makes She-Hulk so damned cool is that she learns to control her Hulk-Out episodes and decides to STAY THAT WAY ALL THE TIME.  She ends up being literally perfect: the brains and legal smarts of Jennifer Walters, the long legs, huge boobs, and killer smile of She-Hulk.  Oh, and even though she’s not quite as strong as her male cousin, she’s bad-ass enough that she fills in for the mothafuckin’ THING in the mothafuckin FANTASTIC FOUR for a spell.  So let’s recap:  she’s a brilliant trial lawyer who happens to be tough enough to replace a guy whose catch-phrase was “It’s CLOBBERIN’ time!”  She took the job of one of the toughest men on the planet and didn’t miss a beat.  Also, the price she paid for her new-found beauty?  She’s green.  That’s it.  She’s a woman who is comfortable in her own skin, literally, and isn’t afraid to flaunt her sexuality while maintaining the respect of her co-workers (who happen to have SUPER POWERS) and pursuing legal justice at the same time.  There is no female character more complete and THAT, friends, is what makes her so damned sexy.

If only she'd prosecuted OJ...

STARFIRE

You know that old Beatles/Elvis argument?  That you can enjoy both but always prefer one over the other?  Turns out that the same applies to the weed/booze and Marvel/DC dichotomies. I must confess that I have always preferred Marvel’s products until they go off the rails (cough! mutantmassacre. cough!) and then I dive into the DC universe and remember that they have some great titles.  During one of these spells I got heavily into the Teen Titans, and, well…Starfire.  Good God.  She’s an alien princess who can harness solar energy or somesuch to allow her to fly and fire energy bolts or what the hell ever man, TITTIES!!!  Sorry.  Also, when she flies her hair appears to be her primary means of propulsion and TITTAYS!!!  Okay, so I don’t remember as much about her back-story other than I think she was dating Nightwing. And that her skin was a golden yellow-orange, much like Snooki.   A friend of mine from college (cough! DamonMiles. cough!) pointed out on Facebook that between Orion Slave Girls, She-Hulk, and Starfire, I certainly go for chicks with otherworldly skin-tones.  To which I reply “Oh, yeah? well…” and my voice trails off as I stare down at my Chuck Taylors.  Goddammit.

And let's be clear: this is from an ACTUAL comic, not fanboy art. I would STILL spank to this. And by "would" I mean "just did."

GWEN STACY

A moment of silence, please.

Thank you.  Sometimes when I drink my Yoo-Hoo wif mah krew, I pour a li’l out for GS.  For those of you that don’t know, Gwen was not “super” in any way.  She was simply Peter Parker’s first love.  The Green Goblin (SPOILER ALERT!)essentially killed her.  Spidey tried to save her, and, um…might have caused the whiplash that killed her.  But let’s face it, after being thrown from that bridge, she was a goner anyway.  Spidey tried.  Spidey failed.  This is why I love comics. And specifically why I prefer the likes of Spidey or Batman to Superman.  They’re not perfect.  Not by a longshot.  Anyway, Gwen was beautiful, blonde, smart…and human.  A regular girl.  Obviously Peter Parker fell for her pretty hard, but, c’mon…dude was a scrawny geek.  Having been a scrawny geek most of my life, let me tell you that we still aim pretty high. Gwen was pretty amazing.  But she’s still not as hot as that other girl next door…(BONUS SPOILER ALERT!  You-know-who is on the list later, Tiger.)

Remember, skinny geeks: this could totally happen to YOU!!

ROGUE

Okay, here’s the thing: I don’t really know what it is about Rogue that made her one of my faves.  Maybe it’s that streak of white hair.  Maybe it’s her southern accent (“Sure thing, sugah!”)  Maybe it’s because you never really knew where she was coming from.  Her connection to Mystique…her stealing of Carol Danvers’ life essence…her memory gaps.  But let’s be honest, the hottest thing about Rogue has always been that you can’t touch her.  She absorbs powers, thoughts, etc. by skin contact.  So you’d have to have sex whilst wearing a wetsuit/condom contraption.  Which is pretty goddam sexy on its own, amirite?  Hello?  Is this on? Dang.  Rogue is forbidden fruit.  And boy, isn’t that always the tastiest?  Let me go ahead and answer that one:  yes.  Yes, it is.  Sugah.

She can steal your entire identity though skin contact. Totally worth it, really.

NEXT ISH:  WHO IN THE WORLD COULD THAT BE LURKING IN THE SHADOWS?  SOME SORT OF CAT?  AND, WAIT…MORE CIVILIAN HOTNESS IN THE MIGHTY MARVEL STYLE?! STAY TUNED, TRUE BELIEVERS!  EXCELSIOR!!

Super. Hawt. (Part One)

‘Bout time I got another blog out.  Yeesh!  Been a crazy couple of weeks, kiddies.  Sorry for the delay.  Now then…

A few weeks ago I decided it was high time I wrote a blog dedicated to one of my very most favoritest of things about comics.  And by “comics” I mean Comic Books.  Many folks have only recently discovered the medium (and we welcome you) through Hollywood’s current obsession with turning anything print-related into cinematic masterpieces (“Rise of the Silver Surfer” for the MOTHERFUCKIN’ WIN!!!)  This is one reason why I am not at all against rebooting the Spider-Man franchise: the more folks that decide they like that character and want to delve further into his universe, by all means!  The problem is when people watch something like “Silver Surfer” or “Ghost Rider” and are turned-off of the comics medium forever.  You can almost hear them: “Yep, I knew that was a buncha geek shit.  I was right. ”

Anyone else thinks he should be asking about the whereabouts of John Connor? Also, maybe he should put on some pants?

But anyway.  I was born in AD 1970 (by your Earth-man reckoning) and raised in a time long before the Internet.  Hell, we didn’t start stealing cable until I was about twelve.  If you’ve ever tried to watch scrambled adult movies for that one-fifteenth-of-a-second glimpse of areola, then bub…you haven’t lived.  You also don’t appreciate how good you have it now.  EPIPHANY: This is my generation’s “walking a mile through the snow to get to school” story.  “When I was your age, we had to scan the scrambled channels for hours in the hopes that Shannon Tweed would pop a nipple out and we’d be able to see through the miasma long enough to enjoy a blurry red-and-green smudged bouncing tit.  AND WE WERE HAPPY FOR THAT TIT!”  We were.  We really were.

Wait for it...wait for it...GAH!! FOILED AGAIN!!

But if, like me, you were into comics by that time, well then…It wasn’t quite porn, not even soft-core.  It was miles shy of even Playboy.  But it’s not too long a stretch to say that the babes rendered by the likes of John Romita, Jr. and John Byrne were our version of MAXIM’s “Hometown Honeys” or whatever they call that cheesecake.  It was a simple eight-color version of the SI swimsuit issue.  It was glorious.  Seriously, there was a story line in X-Men where Rogue was trying to sort out her memories from those of Carol Danvers (Ms.Marvel) and she goes on a soul-searching walkabout of sorts.  There are a few panels where Rogue is wearing…wait for it…a black bikini.  I literally fell in love.  John Romita Jr. wasn’t always my favorite artist, but the way he captured Rogue, Kitty Pryde, and Storm always worked for me.  In a very real sense.  Ahem.  I also just realized that my mom is reading this entry.  Moving on…

Ladies and gentlemen...John Byrne's She-Hulk. The defense rests.

So that brings me to this disclaimer:  this blog is, and always will be, MY opinions.  Therefore, they are not always going to be the POPULAR opinions.  So, like any ranked list, my choices are going to be different than yours.  So let’s just get this argument out of the way right now:  Wonder Woman is not, and never will be, on my top-hotties list.  Apologies to my gay male friends and to one very-perturbed Kansas City roller derby goddess.  I’ll let you shout at me for a minute, then I’ll give you my rationale.  We good?  Got yourself under control?  Okay.  My argument follows:

Wonder Woman is stupid. <ducks flying debris…>  Seriously.  Allow you and me to have us a virtual conversation (I’ll play both parts.)

YOU: Wonder Woman is awesome.  She’s an Amazon Princess, who…

ME: Like, South American?  From the Amazon River?  That IS pretty badass!

YOU: No, like the old Greek Island Amazon.  They wear togas and such.  Anyway, she’s got these bracers (don’t call ’em bracelets!) that allow her to deflect bullets!

ME: Wow, that’s some serious ninja-shit!  I like her!  Tell me more!

YOU: Okay, she also has this “Lasso of Truth.”  If she snares you in it, you–

ME: Wait – lasso?  Like, rope?

YOU: Yeah, like I was saying, when she ropes you, you have no choice but–

ME: Like “Wild West” lasso?  Is this Amazon Island near Tombstone?

YOU: What?

ME: Just figured, you know, maybe she was really a cowgirl or something.  Her backstory would be a lot better if she were actually Annie Oakley with amnesia or some shit.

YOU: No!  It’s just…a lasso!  I mean, maybe they had to break their own horses on the Amazon Island!  Anyway, she also has an invisible jet, so she–

ME: You’re fucking with me now.

YOU: No, no!  It can’t be seen with the naked eye, and–

ME: So an island civilization that apparently still ropes and breaks their own wild horses, and which has apparently been overlooked by, you know, THE FUCKING WORLD for centuries also manages to have the technology and the actual physical manufacturing wherewithal to produce the greatest stealth technology the world has ever seen?  And they make exactly ONE of them?  And give it to a Princess so that she can go to the United States and fight crime?  With her lasso?

YOU: Look, it’s not like that!  You see, she started out fighting Nazis, and–

ME: Oh, like Captain America?  Was she frozen in ice like him?  Not that his story is plausible, mind you, but at least it’s something.

YOU: Just…NO!  Just, listen!  Okay, so…fuck, where was I?

ME: Aaaaand scene.

Okay, then.  Break into groups and discuss.  When next we speak, class, I’ll have the hottest babes from comics.  And NO Wonder Woman.  Sorry.  My blog.  My rules.

Excelsior!

Chicks, man.

Over the past weekend, VH1 Classic ran both of the “Fletch” movies back-to-back.  I fondly recalled how funny Chevy Chase could be back in the day. I also remembered how my teenage years were made considerably easier by the likes of Dana Wheeler-Nicholson playing the part of Gail Stanwyk.  Soooo gorram cute.  And then POOF! She all but disappeared until she showed up in the amazing “Tombstone” as Wyatt’s common-law wife. (She looooved the laudanum.  Loved it!)  And then, BAM!  “Fletch Lives” hit me right in the pelvis with Julianne Phillips, Bruce Springsteen’s ex-wife.  A model-actress!  What a concept! So, yes.  The eighties were a great time to be a young man who had an overabundance of hormones and tissue paper and for whom no internet had yet been invented.  Here, then are my top-seven 80’s Screen Queens (read: masturbatory material.) They’re not the best-selling or highest-grossing actresses, mind you…most of them fall into the “Oh, yeah!  I remember that chick!” category.  But they’re all mine, bub.

#7. Kelli Maroney

Did SoCal cheerleaders wear...sweaters? Really?!?

She was in that one movie: Specifically, she was in “Night of the Comet” which remains one of the best (and most-overlooked) post-apocalypse survival style movies ever.  It was funny, it was sweet…and it was the only movie to land TWO ladies on this list!  Kelli played a submachinegun-wielding cheerleader wayyyyy before it was cool.  (Eat it, “Sucker Punch!”  Oh, and as cute as she was in “Comet” she also looked like this in real life.

I don't think she's a real cheerleader...

Schwing factor: ***   She would’ve garnered more, but her on-screen sister, Catherine Mary Stewart upstaged her (while showing less skin!)

#6. Corrine Bohrer

The sexiest "DERP!" you'll see all day.

She was in that one movie:  Speaking of skin, Corrine makes the list on the strength of her performance (ahem…full frontal) in the craptastic golf flick “Dead Solid Perfect.”  Don’t worry, nobody else has seen it, either. If you remember Corrine, it’s probably from “Vice Versa” or the short-lived “Flash” television series.  But she didn’t get naked in those.

Schwing factor: ****  Cute body.  And pubic hair. (Hey, it was the eighties.)

#5. Kimberly Foster

She looks great considering her co-star was Bobcat Goldthwait.

She was in that one movie: Everyone remembers Kimberly from John Cusack’s second-best 80’s teenage romp, “One Crazy Summer” and she was pretty damned hot in that one.  Her not-as-vacant-as-you’d-like-to-think Cookie Campbell makes a teasing play for Hoops and has a douchebag for a boyfriend.  A blond douchebag.  That’s the only flavor douchebag they had in the eighties. However, the reason she makes the top-five is a little-known movie from 1988 called “It Takes Two.”  In that one, she plays a femme fatale that cons a groom-to-be into buying a fancy sports car that ends up being a lemon and he has to go and confront the blah blah blah wedding day blah blah Barry Corbin from “Northern Exposure blah blah…anyway, she’s hot.

As beautiful as a late-eighties Gretzky backhander.

Schwing factor: ***  She’s just fucking beautiful.  Cute hair, sexy glances…she should’ve been a major star.

#4. Catherine Mary Stewart

Eat your heart out, Cynthia Gibb!

She was in that one movie: Well, pick one.  Catherine was a B-movie mainstay, appearing in everything from “The Last Starfighter” to “Nightflyers” to the amazing Bruce Dern post-apocalyptic masterpiece “World Gone Wild”.” Ah, but THEN she appeared in a little film called “Weekend At Bernie’s.”  In the aforementioned “Night of The Comet” she set the standard for beautiful women in peril, and Hollywood has been riding that train ever since.  That chick from “LOST” would not come across as tough-yet-nurturing (and hot) and that chick from “The Walking Dead” who had to shoot her own sister down when she got all zombiefied (oops…meant to type SPOILER ALERT) would be just another woman trying to find her way in a “World Gone Wild.” See what I did there?  Also, Catherine gets bonus points for A) Pioneering the big-hair/teal blouse/pushed-up-sleeves look that you saw everywhere in the eighties and B) Being one of two chicks on this list with a three-part name that includes a variation of the name “Stewart.”  Oooo!  Who else?  Tell us, Uncle Turner!  Who else!

Patience, my children…

Schwing factor: ***   She’s beautiful, smart, and tough.  That’s a woman, right there.

3. Deborah Foreman

She's also smart. Perhaps tooo smart...

She was in that one movie: Everyone discovered Deb in the Nicolas Cage classic “Valley Girl.”  Sometimes, when I want to feel ancient, I remind myself the movie came out in NINETEEN-EIGHTY-FUCKING-THREE.  Deb also starred in her own vehicle, the rom-com “My Chauffeur.”  (Get it?  Her own VEHICLE!  I can do this all day.)  But the main reason, other than being one of those rare ladies that can pull off what I call the “innocent slut” routine, is her performance in a movie that literally changed my life:  “Real Genius.”  Her part is limited…but when she asks Chris Knight “can you hammer a six-inch spike though a board with your penis?” well…that’s it, boys.  Game. Set. Match.

Schwing factor: ****   Pouty lips, sparkling eyes, a cute little overbite…and a dirty mouth.  Meee-yow!

2. Lea Fucking Thompson

She totally looked into her son's underwear. In a bad way.

She was in that one movie: Let’s just pretend that Lea DIDN’T star in one of the best-loved sci-fi comedies (a trilogy, no less) of all time.  She still gets credit for the original “Red Dawn” as well as, oh, I don’t know…how about Space Camp, All The Right Moves, Some Kind of Wonderful, JAWS 3!?!? and the reason she makes it to the runner-up spot on this list: ladies and gentlemen, I give you the STAR of the epic George Lucas-produced masterpiece…”Howard the Duck!”  And by “star” I mean, of course, LEA’S ASS!!  My God…it isn’t the roundest or shapeliest.  And it’s not even naked.  Just a pair of cotton panties as she slinks across the bed.  But Gott DAMN could she slink. Gott. Damn.  A friend of mine once remarked that he wore out the “pause” button on his VCR because of that one scene.  Again, people, remember:  Teenage boys.  No internet porn.  We made do.

Go ahead and pretend you don't remember this. It's okay.

Schwing factor:  *****  Dat ass.

1. Mary Stuart Masterson

Okay, so...maybe she looks a little like Ricky Schroeder. I LOVE HER ANYWAY!!

She was in that one movie:  Along with Lea Thompson, her co-star in “Some Kind of Wonderful,” you could say that she has been a gainfully employed actress ever SINCE that 1987 classic.  But let’s be honest, most of her roles have been in chick-friendly fare like “Friend Green Tomatoes” but she did show up in the girls-with-guns western “Bad Girls” with Madeline Stowe, Andie MacDowell, and Drew Barrymore, so she proved that she can still do the sexy.  As Watts, the craps-shooting tomboy sidekick-turned-girlfriend, she made dudes want to cut their girlfriend’s hair off.  They wanted their chick to wear fringed fingerless gloves.  They wanted a wise-cracking, beer-drinking, rock-drumming girl that would have their collective backs when things got rough.  They wanted Watts.  You can hear her echo in iCarly’s Sam, “Firefly’s” Zoe, and Vasquez from “Aliens.”  She was bad ass.  She OWNS the number one spot as a result.

Schwing factor: N/A   It’s tough for me to assign a “sexy” factor to the woman I once fantasized about marrying.  No joke.  Had I been in Hollywood in the 80’s, there would’ve been a stalking charge filed against me.  I’m telling you, it was LOVE!!  AND I KNEW SHE’D LOVE ME IF SHE JUST GOT TO KNOW ME!!  WE’D BE HAPPY FOREVER!!!!!

On Hipsters and Nickelback.

A little backstory.  Remember the scene towards the end of “SLC Punk” where Steve-O recounts how Bob turned him on to punk rock?  The two of them are playing D&D in the basement and listening to Rush?  That scene is so powerful to me because THAT’S EXACTLY THE WAY IT HAPPENED.  Well, not exactly.  See, I was Steve-O (which is weird, because people say I look like Matthew Lillard) and big-time into the D&D and the Rush.  Still am.

People fail to realize that we ALL looked like this.

Anyway, one day while playing an obscure role-playing game called “TOON” which involved being a cartoon character (I shit you not) my friend Steve (irony!) played a tape he had from a band called the Dead Kennedys.  We listened to “Kill the Poor” and “Holiday in Cambodia.”  It was…different.  I won’t lie and say that I was immediately hooked, but it opened my eyes and ears to a new world.  This was also my junior year of high school, which was my favorite.  The year my hair got long, I wore black t-shirts and flannel, etc.  That year my girlfriend introduced me to a place called The Ross Theater.  They showed Rocky Horror on the weekends and local bands played what would later be dubbed “alternative” music. That year I had a shit-eating smirk in my yearbook picture because I finally had stopped caring what anybody else thought. Very liberating. A year or two later, someone hooked me up with a cassette copy of the Descendents “ALL.”  THAT was when my journey to the dark side was complete. Halle-fuckin-lujia.

You're welcome, GreenBlinkCharlotteFX!

Fast-forward to the mid-nineties.  I had found gainful employment as a radio DJ.  I was living a double-life as a country radio DJ who happened to go to punk shows on the weekends.  Two awesome things happened the summer 0f ’94: I met my future wife and I got fired from the country station, right as a band called “Green Day” blew the fuck UP.  Rancid followed Green Day, the Offspring ran though the open door, and bands like Face to Face and Wax followed them out into the world.  It was glorious.  By that time I had started work at a local rock station and got to see this all happen at the same time as the second wave of great Seattle bands hit:  Pearl Jam’s second and third albums had pushed them right to the top, Nirvana’s “In Utero” was huge in spite of/due to Kurt’s suicide…rock was king.  Punk rock had put it there.  It was during this glorious time period that I saw the beginning of something dreadful, horrible…scene-destroying. I met my first hipster.

Thanks for ruining one of my favorite beers, assholes.

Don’t get me wrong.  There have always been and will always be music snobs.  Remember virtually everyone in “High Fidelity?”  Yes.  But this cat was…different.  His name was Marc, and he worked for a local entertainment magazine.  His music reviews were smarmy, his dress code bohemian-Greenwich Village/industrial, and his attitude smug and superior.  See, he had been part of “the scene” for years, but resented the fact that now HIS beloved bands and sounds were being…gasp…mass-marketed and sold at places like BEST BUY!!  OMG, it was like anyone…anyone at all could walk into a store and pick up a copy of fIREHOSE or the MC5.  Blasphemy!  So he started doing what hipsters do.  He put down his heroes, abandoning them in the same way that he imagined they had abandoned him.  I mean, this motherfucker had a vinyl copy of “Bleach.”  Now that it was being re-released for ignorant frat-boys to purchase, well…he just couldn’t have that.  Many of us had similar reactions.  I mean, the whole CULTURE had been based on the fact that the way we dressed, the music we liked, etc. was not for everyone.  We were outcasts.  There’s a reason the perfectly-named Misfits became such a counter-culture icon (seriously, think of five friends.  One of them has that spooky skull-mask t-shirt, don’t they?)

They just don't wear it quite this well.

But there were two ways for the disaffected to deal with this new world.  One, you turned back the clock and held on to your old bootlegged Stiff Little Fingers tape.  You put up old show flyers on your walls and wore unique colognes. (When I was younger, patchouli was used by all manner of subculture types, myself included.  Then it got co-opted by the Phish set and hippies have pretty much owned it ever since, even though patchouli and leather jacket is one of the most awesome scent combos ever.  Pity.) Two, you rejected anything and everything to do with the bands that you once championed.  You stopped listening to Rancid after they were featured on the Beavis and Butthead Do America soundtrack, and even went so far as to stop listeing to Operation Ivy.  You sought out the “next big thing” and got in early.  The only problem with that philosophy was that eventually the inevitable would happen:  the stuff you liked would get popular.  You’d hear a snippet of The Strokes “Last Night” in a car commercial.  The cycle completes itself.  Always.

Or worse...a KIA commercial.

Now, at the other end of the spectrum is Nickelback.  People know I don’t like this band.  I don’t like their songs.  I don’t like the eighties hair-band mentality.  You know, the “all we do is party and fuck! WOO-HOO!!  WE’RE FAMOUS!” attitude.  There have always been bands like this.  There will always be bands like this.  There will always be bands that try to emulate the sound and look of bands like this (COUGH – THEORY OF A DEADMAN – COUGH.)  And I’m actually okay with that.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Chad?" Oh, just rock stuff.

See, it’s hard to hate on a band like this.  They’re succesful.  They’re a new generation’s Aerosmith.  And you know what Aerosmith used to be all about?  Partying and fucking.  I actually think that was the name of their second album (citation needed.)  You know what KISS used to sing about?  Yep.  how about Van Halen?  Ditto.  People, the Holy Trinity is this: Sex, Drugs, and Rock-n-Roll.  Notice that Rock-n-Roll finishes the race in third place.  Hell, for many bands Rock-n-Roll is simply a means to acquire the first two.  It’s okay.  I don’t particularly like it, but it’s okay.  Even better?  This sad, singular truth that the hipsters won’t embrace: If it weren’t for Nickelback and their ilk, there would be no reason for hipsters to exist.  There would be no punk rock, no counter-culture.  Without a Goliath, David is just a kid with a rock. 

In a world with Nickelback, David is a kid with a rock…that you’ve never heard of.

Quick and Dirty.

In reference to the title of this entry: THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!  So, there’s that.

Anyway, I noticed a couple of things the other day.  One:  I start wayyyy too many paragraphs with “Anyway…” so I’ll try to get more creative with my transitions.  Two, thanks to you reading this blog (and all the other entries herein) I’m approaching 10,000 views since the beginning of August.  Dayum…I never figured people would actually want to read this!  So in all sincerity, thanks.  And keep spreading the word!  Would it be out of the realm of possibility to see 20,000 by the end of the year?  Or to put it bluntly: can a nigga get a table dance?

Anyway…

So they had me in a “Brainstorming” meeting today to help a client find ways to market a series of sex-type classes for couples.  I shit you not.  They actually WANTED me in there.  Most of my ideas were rejected.  I suggested that the client have a series of classes called “Your Wife’s Asshole Is Like a 9-Volt Battery: You Know You Shouldn’t Put Your Tongue On It, But You Will Anyway!”  I also mentioned that many of us would sign up for a class called “Bitch, It Ain’t Gonna Suck Itself” and also “What The FUCK Was That Noise, And Where Did It Come From?”  I was asked to leave the meeting early.  Their loss!  But while I was bored, some thoughts crept into my had.  Here are some of them…

1. You know what would be terrifying?  Not zombies.  Fuck zombies, man.  They’re slow. (REAL zombies are slow.  28 Days Later was Rage Virus, you imbecile.)  Ah, but what if some mad genius outfitted an army of zombies with Segway scooters?  A horde of undead douchebags with Bluetooth headsets coming after me? I’m OUTTA here, Jack! Get me to some stairs, stat!

While writing this piece, I had NO IDEA that this was already a thing! Seriously, Google "zombie on a seqway." I'll wait.

2. People know I don’t like the show Big Bang Theory (ahem…) but did you know that the guy that plays Sheldon on that show was recently a guest star on iCarly?  True story.  He played a patient in a mental ward, and he was actually very entertaining.  See, sometimes you have to hate the game, not the player.

3. I’m starting a rumor, right here and now, that a big-budget remake of “Smokey and the Bandit” is underway with Michael Bay writing/directing.  Ryan Reynolds has been cast as Bandit, and Emmy Award-winner Peter Dinklage is signed to play Smokey.  In fact, in this remake the name of the character Buford T. Justice has been changed to simply “Smokey” because they want this thing to be as stupid as humanly possible.  I love the Dink, and though I hate to see him belittle himself (see what I did there?) with this kind of role, but dude…strike while the iron’s hot!  (Seriously, though…his Tyrion Lannister is spot-fucking-on.)

TOTALLY not 'shopped.

4. Speaking of “Game of Thrones,” does anyone else think that George R. R. Martin only added the extra “R” initial so that people would call him “The American J.R.R. Tolkien?”  If so, that shit worked, because that’s EXACTLY what everybody calls him.  Maybe he’s just a big railroad fan.  Maybe somebody took his first choice, George H. W. Martin.  I ain’t care, long as he gets to writin’ some more books, y’all!

5. Finally, I learned recently that it was after the Battle of Bannockburn during the Scottish war of independence (the big one) that the esteemed GaGa’s received their peerage, land, and title.  Brave Lord GaGa so confounded the troops on both sides of the battle that Robert the Bruce was able to cement his claim to the Scottish throne by getting wasted and puking all over the Stone of Scone, which became customary at the coronation of every British monarch since.  In fact, the name of the sacred stone comes from the simple fact that scones were all the Bruce had eaten that day.  The English, upon seeing this horrifying display, wrote their digits on a bar napkin and left the field.  The Bruce never even called them back.  Actually, he totally ran into the English army a few weeks later and claimed he’d meant to call but couldn’t find their number.  Oh, and he dropped his phone in the toilet, so yeah.  But he suggested that maybe they could totally hang out one day.

"...the FUCK is he doing?!?"

The End.