Well, Sabina, loud-penned red-head extraordinaire, is back with another highly opinionated, incredibly well-thought-out issue of rants and raves.
Among other things, she offers a comprehensive skewering of the concept of 'compassionate conservatism', revealing it as at best guilt-assuaging and at worst incredibly, nastily disingenuous on the part of the rich; some entertaining and political verse on the likes of Kathleen Ann Soliah (a former Symbionese Liberation Army member who has been found and is facing punishment way out of proportion to her 'crimes', and certainly far more than Patty Hearst, the other famous ex-SLAer - could the lenience towards Ms. Hearst be due to the fact she had money in the family and is a noted conservative?) and Conrad Black, a Canadian media mogul ('The Belle of the Media Sycophants' Ball', her ode to him, just about made me lose control of my bladder for sheer laugh-inducing bitchiness...); info on a rare POSITIVE depiction of witches and balanced account of Salem on the 'Net (http://www.nationalgeographic.com/salem); a rant about Rapestock '99 (Woodstock); a completely well-deserved assault on Charlton Heston for his NRA mongering ("Sheesh - the man plays Moses once, and now he thinks God is speaking through him all the time."); a well-considered piece on how things have never been in a Golden Age, so current concern about degeneration is a little naive; info on abortion and crime rates, and how a lot of the 'factual reporting' feeds into stereotypes; and overviews/reviews of the works of Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath and Gloria Steinem on Marilyn Monroe; and that's just SOME of what's inside this jam-packed, personal/editorial/political/feminist 'zine.
Sabina always makes me think and read carefully - and both qualities are things to cultivate. A must-peruse...
Double Bill is a work of some duration and infamy, being dissed and worshipped in about equal proportions by various aspects of queer literati (and largely ignored or dismissed without true perusal by the queer ILliterati).
Basically, its premise is about loving William Conrad (star of such shows as CANNON, though I'm just not quite old enough to remember it all that well, and my reference would be to JAKE AND THE FATMAN), who seemed to be a relatively hip and friendly guy in his attitudes towards women, body image and so on, and hating the ever-so-dead-dead-dead William S. Burroughs for his misogyny, ties to child molestation, endorsement of evil capitalist pig shoe makers, and, well, so much more...
I'm not sure I agree that Burroughs was utterly without talent, since his first two books are at least readable and semi-coherent, if still obnoxious...but I would agree that he had a lot of blood on his hands, starting even before he killed Joan Vollmer, his second (!) wife, in 1951 (I didn't know he had another one, truth be told).
I would also agree that it's pretty damned sad that a lot of my fellow queers (including someone I cared for deeply with whom this was too sore a subject to argue about) seem/ed to have worshipped the ground he defecated and urinated on. I mean, wasn't Jeffery Dahmer a lot cuter, and much more murderous and 'rebellious'? *yes, this is sarcasm*.
However, this is not an entirely unrelieved document of hatred (okay, it is, where Burroughs is concerned...but it's damn funny and bitchy about it, and quite incisive and controlled at points) - and, given that Burroughs is now worm food, or possibly vaguely-human-waste-scented ashes, it is the final issue, and is thus jam-packed with less-than-mournful reminiscences about the man from the likes of Vaginal Creme Davis; one Madame X; Tony Arena (AKA Anonymous Boy); the members of Three Dollar Bill; and so many USEFUL queers.
The stuff about Burroughs' son, the exact nature of whose death was unknown to me; Burroughs' connections to rock and roll, and how he had so many ties to the heroin chic that killed off the likes of Nico, Kurt Cobain, Sid Vicious and Johnny Thunders (I notice Courtney Love is playing Joan in some movie called BEAT; a shame it's not some revisionist fantasy where she shoots William first...); the article on his involvement with U2 and how he encouraged them to break rules and deconstruct language (ironically juxtaposed with an article about how U2 sued Negativland for sampling them (though it should be added the band insisted its publisher did this without informing U2 of the suit)); a revision of a sickly Patti Smith ode to Burroughs that puts things in perspective; and so much more all neatly tie up a portrait of a nasty fellow who the world should not grieve, or at least any mourning due should be reserved for those he harmed, influenced uncritically (the magazine generously points out that people have done interesting things with Burroughs' ideas, but points out 'it's a poor shitpile that grows no roses') or murdered.
Frankly, I don't know enough about William Conrad to talk about the material on him herein; however, if I may add my own reflections, I remember thinking as a teenager that it was nice to see a fat guy on television who wasn't the villain or some vile creature...and that, since Laurie Anderson points out that it was as a result of meeting Burroughs that she adopted her pitch-shifted male persona to combat his oppressive machoism, Burroughs can also be held responsible for the overuse of the vocoder in Eighties 'on-the-edge' pop. Another reason to celebrate and shout, as the 'zine puts it, 'Ding, dong, the wretch is dead!'
So, if you want a bitchy laugh with bite, and fond memories of a BIG star, this is your read...
As the number of the issue indicates, this feminist/leftist journal has been publishing for quite a long time, and shows no sign of compromising or burning out so far.
In recent years, they have done theme issues on Riot Grrrl, Pop Culture, Days of Action against Ontario's Conservative 'government', and so much more. This is the Sex Work Issue.
I was glad to see there was transgendered content in this issue, both because it's so frequently ignored and because a friend of mine's son knew one of the trans prostitutes who was murdered in Toronto over the 1996 Victoria Day weekend (Shawn Keegan), so I have an, as it were, second-hand personal stake in that area.
It's quite refreshing to see such a journal NOT take an 'oh, those poor prostitutes' stance (I would not expect most feminists to take the 'oh, those vile scum corrupting our streets' viewpoint, but the pity/victimizing approach is not all that much better...) - and to have the articles/poems/etc. actually written by the participants in sex trade work, rather than academics, cops, etc.
There is a brilliant piece by Debi Brock and Valerie Scott on the formation of The Canadian Organization For the Rights of Prostitutes; a discussion by the trans Raven Rowanchilde on issues facing such sex trade workers; and much more, in 88 informative and fascinating pages.
Even though I'm a boy, and thus not the target audience, Fireweed never fails to educate and engage me, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
The most evil and most acronymic 'zine continues on (I really MUST get #1, after reading about it - I mean, queer X-men stuff - the mind boggles...Wolverine and Beast as the ultimate Bear couple, perhaps?).
Like the other two in the series I've read, this magazine takes no prisoners. It is vicious and mean and nasty and opinionated and completely deranged - and essential reading.
The opening editorial on the events in Littleton was oh-so-unkind. I mean, I can't say I REALLY think the people who got shot deserved it (though they surely deserved to be thrashed within an inch of their lives) - however, having watched the events unfold and hearing the little darlings from in the school call out to the media about how 'fags' were doing it - I mean, there is a time when it's a good idea NOT to rile the deviants, kiddies, and I would think that when they're heavily armed would be it (and WHY did all these kids have cell phones? Perhaps I'm out of touch, but it strikes me as kind of strange to see such youthful individuals with the resources to afford that kind of thing...god knows I couldn't have...). However, the ingenousness of the coverage and the ways in which tons of letters flowed into local papers about how 'we were never that unkind to geeks when we were young' (oh, trust me - I spoke to my grandmother about that, and, yes, you were...at least SOME of you were...since the dawn of time, no doubt...) demanded some kind of 'wake up!' response - and this would be it.
This issue also features reviews (including of yours truly's zine); an interview with Nashville Pussy and the ex-gay movement Exodus International (that was actually very interesting); stuff on anti-holidays and how to 'celebrate' them; a critical piece on how 'queer cops' are a bad idea for everyone concerned; and a hilarious set of answers to 20 questions about being queer; and sooooo much more.
You've GOT to have it - kill Dr. Laura if necessary to get it (again, I wouldn't want to advise homicide, so don't take this as a committment...unless you want to...).
This is the Lilith Fair issue, focussing on those second stage artists, such as: Emm Gryner (Canadian artist, recently dropped by Mercury); Cibo Matto (sort of a Japanese female Beastie Boys/Luscious Jackson); Sixpence None the Richer (you've heard that song 'Kiss Me' - god, I'VE heard it, and I don't listen to the radio...); and Susan Tedeschi (a fabulous blues guitarist).
There are concert reviews of Blondie and some neat record reviews (mostly indie this time). There is another fabulous piece from Ann Wilson of Heart fame about her experiences with the circus (one gets the distinct impression that she is just starting to really enjoy life to its fullest now, when she must be 50, if not more - and that's really refreshing to see...). There are also interviews with the Bangs; a piece on Stefanie Eulinberg, drummer with Kid Rock, the rap-rock artist.
Again, an interesting read about a lot of artists who don't get a lot of coverage elsewhere. More and more, I wish I were a grrrl, so I could feel empowered by this, instead of just informed and intrigued. Nevertheless, good stuff...
A new one on me (but, then, it IS only issue #2) - but saw it in Toronto, and, thanks to the back cover (which viciously parodies MR&R), took a chance.
Like Punk Planet and, well, that OTHER black-and-white, smudgy-newsprint publication, SHREDDING PAPER has columns and reviews and interviews (the one with Penelope Houston of the Avengers was interesting, because it is in two parts, separated by 14 years (!). It has no politics as such, or even really heavy opinion pieces (I mean, one of the columns, BELA'S WORLD, DOES bemoan the apathy of modern folk, but doesn't suggest a way out...).
The interview with Homer Flynn of the Residents' organization (let's be real here - he probably IS a Resident...but let's allow the little illusion too...) was intriguing and as insightful as you could expect (I mean, it's not as though you could ask: 'Who ARE the Residents? I want pictures of them, out of costume!' That would likely end the talk...).
The interviews were really in depth, and fascinating, but I think I'd want something a little more opinionated out of a 'zine...good, but not gripping...still, as I said, it IS only #2...
Now, you say you want POLITICS...
THIS is political. It's chock full of articles on queer DIY activism, focussing on NYC. There's a little bit of everything, from how to resist gentrification, to combatting racism, to fighting Rudy Giuliani's bid to 'clean up' NYC (it is to laugh, but it can leave you crying...).
There are cartoons, drawings, posters, insightful articles (including a drawing by my Arne and a piece by me) and, in general, a lot of reasons to celebrate and see that activism and anger and determination to exist on one's own terms are not dead.
Bravo!!
Well - it's a complete collection of the cartoon strip "Hot Head Paisan", which is about a homicidal, television-obsessed dyke with a bad attitude and a cat named Turkey.
It is highly satirical, and it is necessary to point out that the author may not necessarily agree with every action and word spoken by the character (why is it that we are supposed to take it as a given that, when some white guy says he doesn't like blacks, for example, that he was misquoted or only meant those 'bad' blacks (which means...?), but, should some dyke or queer express sentiments not entirely loving towards the majority or some group that has been known to oppress them, they are suddenly dead serious and must be stopped...well, of course, I KNOW why...it's rhetorical...).
The drawing style is crude but fun, and the humour...well, I find it very funny. I suppose if you're a man with castration anxiety, you might not...
Sure, it's expensive - but it's everything to date, and it's chock full of fun, games and violence...what more could you want?
More humour with a pointed edge - obviously, I'm in that kind of mood lately...
This is a collection of essays around themes that face us queers every day. For example, how do you advise your nephew how to choose between girls whose affection is being courted by another boy as well, when, well, you'd choose the boy? (Luckily, my only nephew lives on the other coast.)
Unlike his previous volume in this vein, ALEC BALDWIN DOESN'T LOVE ME, this is both highly varied and about more than just sex and boys. There is some screamingly funny stuff about dog ownership, parks, etc.; an imagined dialogue with God in which you finally have to agree not to talk to the passive-aggressive fiend again; a side-splitting piece on the possibilities of fundamentalist toys, such as the Jezebel play set, where you can toss the meat-scented doll to the dogs (oh, please, DON'T let Falwell hear it...he might take it seriously...); and much, much more (including an ever-so-fantasy-sublimating piece on assassinating enemies of queers).
There is an obvious political agenda here, but it's done with sufficient wit that possibly even conservative queers (oh, like any of THEM read my magazine...) could find some of it rib-tickling.
A definite keeper...
My friend Brian strikes again - this is his third book in as many years, and they just keep getting better with each try (the spelling and grammar have taken a big leap forward - they've occasionally been a little lax in the past, though not horribly so...).
This book is about one James B. Irwin, who was an American astronaut, most famous for being on Apollo 15, though also known for his religious work and his being part of an effort to try and find Noah's Ark (this is covered in about half a page, and it irritated Brian to have this as one of the first questions he was asked when interviewed on local TV). He was also involved in a scandal about faked memorabilia of moon trips (NASA did it all the time - they just didn't like to get caught, or have whistle-blowers) that is so sealed up in confidentiality that finding out what REALLY happened may not be possible in most of our lifetimes.
I couldn't possibly sum up the book neatly, but it is well-written, witty, impeccably researched, and full of Brian's clever, but never too arty, turns of phrase and nuance.
He made me read a book whose hero was a Tory; he compelled me to read a war novel; and now he has gotten me to plow through the biography of an astronaut. These are not things I would normally do, so take them as strong endorsements...
With any luck, there should be 'Net presence on this book soon - perhaps even Amazon.com (not that I would necessarily wish that on anyone)!
The quotes from the front of this book make it sound as though this were the SATANIC VERSES of the mainstream gay movement.
It isn't, of course (either as the real Rushdie book or the imaginary book constructed by defenders of orthodoxy) - but it's quite entertaining - except for the final piece by Bruce LaBruce and Glennda Orgasm, which is just puerile and adolescent (in a bad way).
What it is is a series of essays of varying degrees of academia or paint-blistering sarcasm about the inadequacies of bourgeois gay culture to address a lot of viewpoints and issues, be it from a bi or transgendered point of view, or even from a 'must we be such and such forever, and is such and such even a valid stance, or just a response?' perspective.
The essay on film ("Confessions of a Gay Film Critic") makes the entirely valid point that looking to Hollywood for a message or validation (go to Western Union and your friends respectively, girlfriend...) may be misguided, and that very few films with queer content are entirely worthless or evil (but that their worth is limited). Of course, the author decides to go with 'Cruising', just to be really controversial (I remember that one when I was about 13, and hearing how it was terrible; of course, just as Mr. Humphries on 'Are You Being Served?' served as an example of a functioning fag, if not a 'PC' one, so ANY image of S/M or slightly more aggressive faggotry was sort of a godsend to me, no matter how problematic...).
If you believe that all queers are good, and that existing culture serves everyone, and that suggesting things could change or aren't entirely wonderful is homophobic, put the book down now and report to Provincetown or Fire Island for your rainbow bar code...otherwise, read on.
