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April 2001

Download the word version, perfect for printing and handing out on street corners!
In this issue:    Eeyore Takes on Easter!    Ash Gets Spicy!    Crankenstein Returns!    PLUS: St. Irish Day!    And an honest to goodness REAL MOVIE REVIEW!
Spice Spectacular

I find myself being frustrated by a lot of things lately. I'm frustrated by the lack of communication in my love life, ever since Jenna Jameson got call screening. I'm frustrated by my lack of social life now that they've cancelled the TV guide channel and I can't remember when all my friends are on TV. But most of all, I'm frustrated by the decline of Western Civilization, as demonstrated by the mediocre popular response to the new Spice Girls album. At the height of their popularity, they were spokewomyn for the new feminism, teaching legions of young, impressionable fans that it's OK to be a sex object as long as you get paid for it. They also were champions of diversity, showing that it is possible for people of exactly the same background to get along and become popular. The Spice Girls were an empire, transfixing millions of fans with a mere bra-less jiggle or lewd hip movement. But oh, how the mighty have fallen, and it's their own damn fault. You see, they forgot the cardinal rule of girl groups, which is that the success of a chick band is directly proportional to the length of the jail sentence one would receive for having one's way with a them. Therefore, due to Emma "Pedo Spice" Bunton's age and high rape-ablilty, the Spice Girls' success was guaranteed. Sure, in some of your darker moments, some of you may have strayed to the classy iciness of Posh "Pointy, Flat One" Spice, or the wild frat-girl antics of Scary "United Colours of Beneton" Spice, but in the end we all come crawling back to Emma's cradle for our depraved fantasies. Following that logic, their downfall came not with the departure of Geri "Grandma Spice" Halliwell, but with Baby's new 'adult' image, as evidenced in their latest video, Holler. And what do we have in their place? A plethora of soulless boy bands and Britney Spears. Now, Britney's all well and good, having the jailbait thing down pat, but unlike the Spice Girls, her success is a setback for feminists everywhere. See, the beauty of the Spice Girls was their giant breasts, and also that they reveled in their sex-object status, showing the YM generation that dressing like a tart is perfectly acceptable so long as the company that owns you says it's alright for you to acknowledge it. I think that's called 'empowerment'. Britney, on the other hand, is entirely too dingbattish to understand anything her owners tell her more complicated than 'dance like a stripper and pretend to sing', so that idea does right down the drain. This brand of self-aware, empowered feminism is much more palatable that the hairy-legged, Birkenstock-wearing kind, and I was all ready to welcome it with open arms, vowing to never again use the term 'skirt' or 'chippie' in reference to my female friends as long as this trend continued. But that dream was not to be. Instead of video after video of spicy silicone and sweat imbued with real social significance, liberating prostitutes in training everywhere, we get the odd drippy Spears video sandwiched between songs 'by' Nick, Howie and the rest of the New Kids In The Gay Bar. But what does this quick disappearance of Spice-Mania teach us about society? Were they just talentless bimbos with ass implants destined to languish in obscurity like 5 female Emilio Estevezes? Or was society just not ready for their radical brand of Girl Power feminism? Well, both, but it's the latter that worries me. It proves that despite what we would like to believe, we still live in a society where womyn are relegated to the state of second-class citizens just because they need Oprah to tell them what books to read, or are forced to waste their lives away as secretaries or nurses just because there aren't enough 'Sandwich Artist' positions to go around. It shocks and appalls me that the one opportunity womyn everywhere had to break free from the kitchen and move into the bedroom where they rightly belongs was allowed to fade away, and I plan to do something about it. I don't care what it takes, I'm willing to do anything to win you ladies the right to dress like Heidi Fliess' finest and prance around like nymphos with Parkinson's. If you need to find me, I'll be protesting at the local Club Super Sex. In the local Club Super Sex.

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