One of the greatest minds in television and performance art to this day is Paul Reubens, most beloved for his creation of the magical world of PeeWee's Playhouse. It is the only show for kids that is just as inspiring for adults, and is creative and playful beyond compare. I will never be able to determine which character, or even which minute detail of the show I like the most, but we all know who the sexiest lady there was - Miss Yvonne, played by the delightful Lynne Marie Stewart. You can see Lynne Marie today on another show we love, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Glamorous from head to toe, Miss Yvonne lived up to her title as the most beautiful woman in puppet land. Everyone had eyes for her, including Hermit Hattie, the mountain woman. Miss Yvonne had a signature style - featuring big hairdos, plenty of makeup, puffy tea-length dresses, and bosom-celebrating necklines. Usually the outfits also bestowed some outrageous pattern or theme, often including glued-on plastic pieces, flowers, and small toys.
Like all of the characters on the show, Miss Yvonne possessed a fascinating world all her own, and provided the boys and girls who watched it a means to a lesson. Any of the many cast members had enough enigmatic quality to steal the show, but instead they all worked to form a cohesive yet busy and fascinating world, successfully suspending our disbelief in its fantasy while also teaching us about ourselves.
The older I get, the more I realized that my entire concept of aesthetics and beauty were specifically created by this show. In present day, the lavish sets and bight colors are just as appealing as in my youth.
We at BC/HF are the desperate sort. As sensualists, we are easily swept up in fantasy. We develop ridiculously elaborate fantasies and crushes and cultivate debilitating standards reached by almost no one, especially not our existing sexual partners. When real people fail to fulfill fantasy, we fall instantaneously into the notion that the human race is a lost cause. The good news, however lacking in reassurance, is that we are not alone. While we pine and long and fear for an eternity without love (sexual, romantic, or platonic, and all specifically tailored), our struggles are not ours alone, and we see time and again scenarios of fake real-life people getting just what they want. These are obviously catered to the needs of the lonesome and heartsick such as ourselves, and it's most common name is pornography. It takes more forms than the obvious, though...
The tricky part is yet to come. While we may easily say that we would willingly accept proposals from fictional partners - say David Cross wanders up to you in the locker room "Did anybody order a pizza pie? We're all out of bread sticks" - the fact of the matter is that in real life we would be totally creeped out and offended. Something about the fantasy world possesses far more safety and sanity than potential actual scenarios, and the few people who have EVER approached us voicing humbly simple desires outright, have been turned away without hesitation. What hypocrisy.
Then there is the matter of actual fantasy scenarios, should they play out for real. As much as I would theoretically like for these events to occur - an appealing dishwasher repairman is welcomed into my house and we have ample time alone with one another - I highly doubt that my nerves would allow for a fantasy to play out in real life. This is an all too frustrating notion, especially when I have heard young men, time and again, boast of what they would do if only they could get their hands on this or that highly adept pornstar. I am solid in my preference for Eva Angelina over all others in her field...
It is obvious as to why - she wears glasses, also, she makes a lot of passionate noise and it is clear that she truly enjoys her job (we like to think that we can tell one way or the other with pornstars) ....But I'm pretty sure I would be way too intimidated to even speak to her, let alone partake in a fantastic, tantalizing turn of events.
Often upon watching a movie with my brother, there is a a scene that pops up in which either a desirable event transpires, or perhaps the characters are attacked by an outlandish force and defend themselves poorly. Shortly after the scene ends, my brother is ready with critique beginning each time with "Man, If I was there..." followed by his description of the optimum way the situation could be handled. I always argue with him about this because I believe that if he were truly in a dangerous and highly unnatural situation, his first intrinsic thought would not be to grab his gun, it would be more along the lines of freezing in terror or shitting to death, as my reaction would also be. Granted, I typically talk most of the way through any movie, and we are full of commentary and suggestions. It is for this reason it does me no good to watch Mystery Science Theater 3000. However, I like to think that my feedback is at least humble, and more often than not I will marvel at someone's expert handling of sticky situations, and am ready to admit my own lack of prowess.
Somehow, we are only able to suspend our disbelief for certain scenarios, and a fraction of the time. We may often dismiss something as unrealistic while wanting for another unnatural thing, seemingly with complete reason. As much as this enrages us, we contend that wanting and fantasy is an integral driving force that both keeps us alive and plants the seed to our own suffering.
At BC-HF we have been trying our damnedest to surmount one of the biggest obstacles afflicting our lives - our hatred of our fellow womenfolk. We know for a fact that we are not alone in this battle either - we truly believe it affects all women.
They say that young women are intimidated by older women, and older by the younger, but it seems to me that I become most aggressive around women of my own generation. Every time HF and BC enter a bar or art show, we have to pump ourselves up to no avail, because the nervous energy within us abounds, and what we fear the most in those situations are the ladies, especially the pretty ones. What is awful is that we constantly look for attributes in the women around us to demean them, fatal flaws that will make us feel better about ourselves. It is a horrendous and instantaneous thought process, yet ashamed as we are, we simply can't stop. I can't even convey the level of burning fury that arises in me when I see a girl flirting with someone, giggling, or even just wearing enviable clothing. The more of our own interests fellow women seem to express, the worse we feel about them. In our heads there is a thoroughly rehearsed repertoire of demeaning things to mutter and think about these women, most of whom are undoubtedly thinking the same things about us. Many women who we now think of amiably we once had a seething hatred towards on first encountering them.
And yet how many long hours have we spent fawning over old pin ups, or studying fashion magazines looking for women whose beauty we aspire to emulate? Countless are the times we have remarked on the sheer natural beauty of the female form, or scorned men who put women down, while we are even worse than they are.
It seems to have started at day one. Even in kindergarten there is an instant identification of who the prettiest girl in the class is, and by middle school things escalate into extremely dangerous circumstances. My best friend in elementary school was hospitalized at the age of ten for anorexia, and she maintains the disease to this day, and I attribute it to intense female beauty-bullying. Girls from the start display tendencies far more wicked and vindictive than those of the opposite gender. It seems the fairer sex does not posses the charm and gentility that it boasts. Whether this has always been the case, we aren't sure, but for years there are folktales involving wicked tricksy women, and even sailors refer to the furious roiling ocean as a "she."
Once, we were feminists, but now the tables have turned. In our few relations with transsexuals, we have noticed some interesting effects. Men who begin taking estrogen not only achieve the desired results of higher voices and softer skin, but they also begin to become more readily emotional and flighty, whereas women who take testosterone become very logic-based thinkers with more aggression and heightened libidos. This would suggest that the stereotype of women being "womany" and the weaker sex might hold more purchase than we one thought.
Sometimes bitches and hoes just are. Over the last decade TV and those in charge of it have been making bazillions of dollars off of women being themselves - skanks and wretches. The more hair-pulling and finger-waving, the higher the ratings. This is not exclusive to reality televison, either. Even fictional female characters possess all the obnoxious characteristics of a harpy.
Stop fidgeting with your hair, Kristen Stewart, it gives off negative social vibes, my psychology teacher said so.
As mentioned before, VH1 and other networks of that ilk make millions of dollars a year off of women being stereotypically loud, bitchy, and out of control. Take the show Charm School, for instance, which sets out to reward good behavior but in the process giving a number of women plenty of red bulltini-fueled shrewish raves. It is based on shows like these that BC/HF has developed the hypothesis that one can contract herpes merely by sitting on the lawns of the VH1 sets.
The internet has given even more power to women who want to flaunt their wares. Countless videos and pictures are available online of girls - young and old - posing, pouting, and exhibiting themselves in ways we can only assume they find appealing. In the thousands they come, with pictures taken in front of the bathroom mirror, with no attempt to remove the obvious air of self-documentation, or even tidy up the space. Here at BC-HF, we failed out of many art schools several times, so we know all about attention to detail, and from a sexual standpoint, I don't want to sleep with somebody when their bathroom counter is littered with bloody tissues and the like.
Of course we hate this rich bitch.
With the growing accessibility of technology, pop stars such as Ke$ha have their music in the ears of young children the world over. I walked in one day to my 12-year old sister and her best friend practicing their choreography to Ke$ha's "Tik Tok," a veritable salute to binge drinking, a number which the girls planned to perform at the school talent show. My mother sat feet away, oblivious. My sister and her generation feed off the Disney Channel like piranhas and are always engrossed in teeny-bopper sitcoms with mindless and identical female characters. As a result, their concept of the world and people's emotions is fatally warped.
Another shameful thing women have latched onto lately is the notion of homosexuality for the sake of fashion. I cannot count the number of prissy contemporaries of mine who, in highschool, went gay for a while in order to stay hip to the trends. Many of them have now been made pregnant at least once by very bulky red-faced heterosexual men. VH1's "Double Shot at Love" starring the appropriately dubbed "Icky Twins" illustrated this fad even more than it's preceding "Shot at Love" with Tila Tequila (now married to Tom Green). On the show, equally numbered groups of men and women participate in demeaning challenges and make-out sessions with the Twins, in hopes of being crowned winner...of the twins? The exercises included eating icing off of mannequins, fashion shows in sexy animal costumes that they felt best expressed themselves, body shots and so on.
Over the past few decades, Fashion Icon Amanda Lepore has transformed herself into a fully realized idyllic plasticine woman. Make no mistake, BC-HF is 100% supportive of people's descicions to fullfil their expressions of identity and have never had any problem with gay, bi, gender-queer, transvestite, or transexual peoples. Amanda Lepore, however, is a bit of an outrage, namely because she makes a trashy scummy women, and acts rather like the other young stars of Hollywood.
I would hazard a guess that the most readily hated woman in America is Sarah Palin. There is a lavish diatribe I could go into about this vapid beautyqueen, but I would be preaching to the choir, I recon.
Our compatriots over at AntiDuckface have devoted their time to on of the many subsets of girls abusing the internet, and that is the common Duckface.
This is Chris Lilley's highly accurate interpretation of Schoolgirls, he himself portraying he character of "J'Amie", center - the only one without a "skank" emblem.
One of the few women in the popular media who we can even tolerate is singer/songwriter Marina, of Marina and the Diamonds. Above is her song "Girls," describing just the same bubbling rage as our own towards the lasses.
I am in constant awe of natural systems, bone structures, serene evenness and millions of years of trial and error hidden away. For this reason, I love diagrams of organic matter. Here are some sublime x-rays of various creatures.
