Wednesday, November 02, 2016
Emerging talent
I’m wondering whether to buy a collection of songs by Tove Lo, the up-and-coming Swedish singer. Although it’s unlikely I’ll listen to them very often (if at all), one must do what one can to encourage young talent. She has been kind enough to make a video for one of the songs freely available. Most of its scenes show her writhing on the roof of a car or straddling a glass coffin. Apparently she was performing some kind of mating dance:
“To me, music and sex are very connected,” she declared. “I’m a very sexual person.”
Miss Lo has called her new album ‘Lady Wood’. If you think that’s the name of a forest where upper class women have picnics, you’d be wrong. She revealed the true meaning of the title in a recent interview with Vogue:
“It’s kind of like saying a chick with balls, but since we don’t have balls, it’s lady wood. It’s almost like saying, ‘Don’t be a pussy’.”
Call me a confused ape, but this explanation seems to have a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in it. Yes, women don’t have balls, I agree with her on that point. But unless I have been gravely misinformed about the anatomy of the human female, they don’t have anything woody down there either. And why is she using the word “pussy” to mean a weak and pathetic person? A woman who is standing up for her gender should reclaim the kitty word to signify something divine and delicious. Perhaps Miss Lo needs to go on a feminist empowerment course run by Gloria Steinem or one of her disciples.
One has to make allowances for that fact that she is from Sweden, of course. English is not her mother tongue, while Swedish is the tongue of her mother. Ambiguous words like “wood” have deceived the greatest linguists. Back in my circus days, we once hosted an acrobat from Finland, visiting on an exchange programme.
“Happiness is the most important thing,” I said while showing him to his trailer.
“Yes, I hab penis,” he replied with a nervous grin.
I nodded and left him to his devices.
Once she sorts out her issues with the English language, Miss Lo has every chance of hitting the big time. Fans of pop music haven’t heard a Swedish voice in full-throat since the long-lamented demise of ABBA, so her act should have plenty of novelty value. I would advise her to save her sexiest material for prime time audiences. Miley Cyrus played a goody-two-shoes character before launching her twerking exhibition on the world and it propelled her to instant stardom. Sticking your tongue out and wiggling your bottom only makes a big splash when it’s totally unexpected. No one would have batted an eyelid if Madonna had done it. I just hope Miss Lo hasn’t jumped the gun by humping a glass coffin in her pop video. As any lioness will tell you, timing is everything if you want to make a kill.
Labels: Miley Cyrus, Sweden, Tove Lo, twerking
Wednesday, July 02, 2014
Getting her back
Robin Thicke, the singer who twerked with Miley Cyrus, has made a pop video beseeching his wife to return to him. I never knew the fellow had a wife – apparently he married a famous beauty called Paula Patton. She recently left him, reported to be cheesed off by a string of indiscretions, which may or may not have included the twerking episode with Miley.
The peculiar thing about the pop video is that it features a scene where Thicke is having his chest hairs groomed by a comely young wench. If he were a gorilla, this might signify nothing more than an extended delousing session, but the torso of a man is too naked to be stroked for non-erotic reasons. Given that this is so, why would a video intended to persuade his wife to return to the marital bed display the very behaviour that caused her to leave it in the first place? I can think of three possible reasons:
1) The man is a halfwit.
2) The man is a moron.
3) The man is a halfwit and a moron.
Having said all that, who is to say that she won’t go back to him? Women are very unpredictable in the way they react to cheating husbands. When Tiger Woods’ missus found out about his philandering, she attempted to drive him down the freeway with a long iron. No question of forgiveness there. Yet even an ultimate power-dame like Hillary Clinton decided to grit her teeth and persevere when the whole world knew that her husband’s appendage was a popsicle in Monica’s mouth. Did she exact her vengeance by taking her own lover, like a Russian queen? I am tempted to search for rumours using google, but that would open up a whole new plate of oysters.
What sort of woman is best-equipped to deal with a cheating spouse? My shortlist would include the actress Taylor Schilling, pictured below. The first thing to say about her is that she’s played a lesbian in a popular TV drama – this sends a powerful “Who needs your dick anyway?” message to any man who might be tempted to play fast and loose with her.
The second point to note is that she’s been cuddling the actor Zac Efron in a very public way, even though Master Efron is believed to be gay by those who speculate about such matters. This suggests the emotional fluidity of a woman who doesn’t pine for the attention of a macho man. If the hound chases after bitches, she’ll just turn her back on him and canoodle with the poodle.
Miss Schilling has yet to marry at the age of 29, and when she does announce her nuptials let us hope her future husband will be as faithful as the night is long. But if worst comes to worst, she has my permission to party with the lesbians and snuggle with the gays before finding a new spouse. It’s what her fans will expect of her.
Labels: Miley Cyrus, Robin Thicke, Taylor Schilling, twerking, Zac Efron
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Circus act
If you’d mentioned the name “Miley Cyrus” to me 10 days ago I would have scratched my head. When I hear it today, I scratch my armpits (a gesture of amusement in gorilla society). I am pleased to report that her recent twerking exhibition brought whoops of delight from the jungle primate community, apart from a few envious baboons who thought she was stealing their thunder. The girl is funnier than Fabio Fucini, the legendary circus clown who could fart in his own face.
Her human critics have predictably focused on minor aspects of her routine, such as the booty-wiggling and the hand-to-crotch activity. These are simple manoeuvres that most apes master before puberty. I was spellbound by her face. Her eyes reminded me of a she-hyena in heat, and her tongue might have been attached to a hungry lizard looking for insects to feed on. If I owned a restaurant, I would invite her to lick all the plates clean before putting them in the dishwasher.
The most intriguing part of her act involved the glove with the big pointing finger, which she poked and prodded the man in the striped suit with, before thrusting between her thighs like an imitation phallus. My females thought she was pretending to be a man, but I was quick to correct them:
“She is pretending to be a woman with penis envy,” I said. “The glove is actually a condom, because the human finger is an infamous cootie-magnet that goes every place it can. Singers must be mindful of the safe sex message in front of their impressionable fans.”
All-in-all, it was an inspired performance. If I were Miley’s manager, I would encourage her to develop a comedy pole-dancing act that would upstage all the boring displays you see in titty bars.
I shouldn’t give the impression that I’ll encourage anything for a laugh. Jokes can backfire, as the artist who painted a picture of President Putin in ladies’ underwear found out. The painting was immediately confiscated and the artist had to flee to France to avoid arrest. There’s no sense in mocking a humourless tyrant if he has the power to pulverise your paintbrushes and stick the splinters into your tender parts.
I’m the last one to defend President Putin, but it has to be admitted that the picture does not flatter him. He makes a very unattractive woman, and is a salutary lesson for men who think that slipping into a sexy negligee will make them gorgeous. If you don’t want to look like a hideous old transvestite, you’ve got to go the whole hog with hormone therapy and cosmetic surgery.
This isn’t to say that everything looks good on a real woman. I certainly don’t approve of the enormous rose-bush tattoo that a woman called Cheryl Cole put on her backside. Rose petals may be fragrant, but they don’t belong on the human rump. There is something very suspect about a woman who tries that hard to make people sniff her bottom.
Labels: Cheryl Cole, cross-dressing, Miley Cyrus, Putin, twerking
