We will return in 2018 with a new look, mission & direction. Stay tuned as we develop our online destination that celebrates contemporary & retro pop culture as well as body, mind & spirit!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Jon, You Ignorant Slut

What I wouldn't give for Dan Aykroyd to tie up Larry King, hijack his CNN anchor chair and deliver this apparently apt one-liner to the whiny-assed, self-involved, axe-grinding, (allegedly) ass-grabbing, globe-trotting, douche-bagging worse half of Kate Gosselin.

As much as I've tried to avoid the crapola circling her reality TV half-wit husband, Jon Gosselin's increasingly egregious behavior screams out on every supermarket check-out rag, entertainment web site and, now, TV news show in existence.

Somebody has to tell this father of eight, "Mr. Gosselin, despite your uncanny resemblance to his first name, you, sir, are no Dick Van Patten."

Still, Jon decided "Eight" was enough right around the time TLC dropped his moniker from the now less-arithmetically-complex "Kate Plus Eight." Suddenly, after several months of self-absorbed galavanting with one or more women six to ten years his junior (biologically speaking, anyway), he's had an "epiphany" and decided the three-year-old cable reality TV cash cow that's supported him, his wife, their eight children and his costly lifestyle is now "unhealthy" for his kids.

Or for his ego. After putting up for months with his unprofessional and sickening shenanigans—including telling ABC's 20/20 that he "despises" his impressionable, young children's mother—TLC finally put him in his place. And now, miraculously, he's concerned about saving his family. What. Ev. Er.

At least that Ewok dude married to Heidi Montag is bright enough to consider getting a vasectomy. If only Mr. Gosselin were as smart as an Ewok.

I offer the following anecdotes to Jon and/or his sympathizers as a cautionary tale. Not that he would head down this path, but his erratic actions seem to suggest that, under certain conditions, his immaturity and petulance could make him vulnerable to continued stupidity.

My sister married an unkind and infantile man in the mid-'80s. They quickly had three children. He sat on his ass while my sister took care of everything—from screaming babies, dirty dishes, errands, potentially dangerous kitchen spills and so on and so on and so on. When he decided to run off and have a mid-life crisis in his early 30s, he didn't have nannies, bodyguards and production assistants standing by to enable his self-indulgent conduct. Mr. Gosselin seems to have conveniently forgotten how much his TV series has helped him and his children as he tries to cope with life's stresses.

If he truly now has his kids' best interests at heart, I wonder if he's prepared to pay his soon-to-be-ex-wife alimony, along with child support. Does Divorced Dads Club pony up the big bucks?

I also wonder if he's prepared to stop sowing his wild oats long enough to focus on eight kids' emotional and mental development. I know 22-year-olds think little kids are cute and all, but will Jon's "soul mate," Hailey Glassman, step up to the step mom plate? Something tells me that, without his money-making series and accompanying celebrity, Mr. Gosselin may be on his own in the not-so-distant future. Nannies are expensive, after all, and he's learned the hard way that they can talk to tabloids. He might have to settle on daycare and a mute babysitter.

I hope for his eight kids' sake that he grows up and puts his reality TV money where his mouth is after this show ends. How much is insurance for a new Mercedes-Benz ML350 SUV, a new Porsche Cayenne and a 2007 Nissan Nismo 350Z? Hmmm. I hope none of those kids needs serious counseling, medical or dental work in the years ahead. Vroom vroom.

My ex-brother-in-law, who eventually took up occasional work as a truck driver, decided he'd "found Jesus" on an Oklahoma turnpike in 1992. Apparently, Jesus told him not to send money home to Ohio to pay his family's heating bill in December. As my sister and her three kids sat freezing in their squalid little house hundreds of miles from the rest of her family, my parents and I turned on the TV to see her idiot husband in a "heartwarming" story on a Tulsa news station. He literally gave another trucker the Member's Only coat off his back while telling a reporter, "We truckers have to stick together."

Mr. Gosselin, please do not purchase a Member's Only jacket. Not that you wouldn't pay your family's heating bill, but those pneumatic soul mates can distract you when they get nipply, er, nippy.

Shortly thereafter, my sister's moronic mate left her and her pre-school-aged children. My mom and I moved them to Oklahoma and eventually, after I graduated from the University of Tulsa and got established in Los Angeles, to Southern California. The kids' idiot father never spoke to them again, never sent a card and—unless forced by the state of California—almost never paid child support.

My mom, my sister and I made sure they had what they needed—including, first and foremost, love and attention—but we could never repair the damage their asshole father did to them by refusing to grow up. And, let me tell you, it was not easy not telling my niece and nephews—whom I consider my kids—how much I despised their father. No kid needs to hear that. Besides, they learned soon enough on their own that his actions spoke for themselves.

Think carefully, Mr. Gosselin. Maybe Kate Plus Eight isn't such a bad idea after all.

GUEST SHOT: Mackenzie Phillips' tell-all book: TMI, TMZ or something sadly beyond "the view" of the sound bite-centric media?

By Curt Phillips
Retroality.TV Reporter

How much information is too much information? The book-buying public was afforded the opportunity to determine the answer to that question themselves last week thanks to the release of Mackenzie Phillips’ memoir, High on Arrival. So far it would appear that those who picked up a copy of the book and actually read it are coming up with a vastly different answer than those who have only been exposed to Phillips’ tumultuous publicity tour.

Before I go any further here, I should confess something. I am someone who became highly allergic to television news thanks in most part to coverage of the O.J. Simpson trial in the mid 1990s. We had already been slipping mindlessly into a tabloid culture prior to those two murders and the trial that followed, but this appeared to be some sort of tipping point for yours truly. When the lead story on all news broadcasts was that prosecuting attorney Marcia Clarke had surprised everyone by getting a new perm, I could literally feel journalism die. Somewhere off in the distance Woodward and Bernstein must have been writhing in pain, I just knew it! If I followed anything related to that trial following that day, I don’t recall. I was likely exposed to information against my will simply by walking out my front door and walking past other human beings with the ability to open their mouths and speak.

With the exception of Ellen DeGeneres’ 1997 emergence from the closet and 9/11 coverage, I have largely avoided television as a news source. For all the positive things it did appear to offer, television news failed to offer much more than sound bytes and commentary. This past week while observing reactions to Phillips’ book, it has become clear to me that nothing much has changed.

For those two or three people out there who may still not be aware, actress and musician Mackenzie Phillips revealed in her book, as well as in TV talk show appearances, that for a period of years in her adult life she and her father John Phillips engaged in incest—and that it was consensual. There are fine points that she herself debates in her book, but this was the grand revelation that Oprah Winfrey helped her share, literally with the entire world, and which inspired a sea of news commentators and TV viewing public to shout back, “TMI!”

But was it just TMI? Well … yes and no.

As I said before, for those who have read the book, largely the answer to whether that bit of information is too much to share seems to be that no, it wasn’t. Yours truly read the entire 300 or so pages in the course of one day. Technically, it only took me roughly eleven hours to read it, and I argue that as long as you do read the book to understand the context in which the incest took place, that not only is it not TMI, but it could actually count as helpful information.

Many of the television news commentators, as well as other online and print media commentators, have chimed in on their reaction to the single announcement of incest, but few other than Oprah Winfrey seemed to have actually read this book. I have to question how credible that commentary is if it comes without research. Chris Mann, the gentleman who runs this blog and who invited me to share with you here today, has training as a journalist and would be more adept at dissecting this one for you than I am. Are the hosts of The View actual journalists and should they be held to the same standards as journalists, or are they indeed free to share their shocked reaction to a handful of quoted passages as they mug for the camera? Are they entitled to critique Mackenzie Phillips’ motives for sharing this part of her story without first reading the book to find these answers? Whoopi Goldberg, when you’re done telling Suzanne Somers that she should know better for her statements regarding Patrick Swayze and his cancer battle, will you please take a look in your own mirror?

So what about the book? From my vantage point, it was written by a woman who has battled many demons throughout her life and who is making a concerted effort to be open and frank so that those demons would no longer control her. She concentrates heavily on her strained relationship with her father, discussing many different aspects and events that at various times brought them closer to one another or drove them apart.

The incest is described very matter-of-factly—alongside many other events—as being one of many things she “boxed away” to avoid confronting. What seems to be ignored in much of the press is how it came about as the byproduct of heavy drug use, which Phillips explains had helped disconnect both her and her father from their more natural instincts. She does indeed describe the first encounter as rape, but goes on to explain in somewhat startling objective detail the discussions she and John had afterward. This part of her story might possibly cause the reader to examine the finer points of what does and does not constitute rape.

The true shame of this book tour, as it has played out in the media, is that many people might be inspired to pick up a copy and begin reading in hopes of finding some lascivious description of father-daughter sex. Those readers will be disappointed. This is not a lusty soft-core porn novel, nor the angry ramblings of a former child star. It is the effort of a woman battling addiction to tell her own life story in her own way as part of her own recovery process.

What about the question of this being TMI? For incest survivors, as well as those struggling with their own addictions, this book has the potential to offer catharsis. For those who have not had to confront either of these issues first hand, it has the potential to enlighten and educate. For those who are inspired to read it because they question the validity of criticism Phillips has received in the press, it has the potential to inspire even more of a critical thinking approach to listening to TV news. Perhaps for a few of the individuals who have publicly questioned Phillips’ motives in sharing this part of her story, it may inspire some reflection and introspection.

I stated earlier that sometimes the answer might also be that this is too much information. What did I mean by that? In some cases merely hearing the announcement that “Mackenzie Phillips announced on Oprah that she had an incestuous consensual affair with her dad,” would indeed be too much information. The determination for that, I believe, would have to do with context. If you do not know who Mackenzie Phillips is, or even care for that matter, then this information might have absolutely no purpose. If you never listened to any of John Phillips’ music and have no vested interest whatsoever in his memory, this sound bite may have no value. If you are not an addict, or an incest survivor, or if you have an extremely weak stomach and are foolish enough to eat your dinner in front of the TV, then this revelation may very well be completely useless in your world. I still argue, however, that learning first hand from people what they have experienced and how they survived it does indeed have value to us. We simply have to be open to it. If we are not open to it, then by our own indifference we indeed render it useless.

But Curt, what about her own family publicly denouncing her claims? I am so glad you brought this up, you smart reader you. Michelle Phillips, John’s second of four wives and Mackenzie’s former step-mother, has released statements intended to cast doubts on Mackenzie’s incest claim and on Mackenzie herself. Denouncements have also come from Genevieve Waite, John’s third wife, as well as Bijou Phillips, John and Genevieve’s daughter. Farnaz Phillips, John’s widow and fourth wife, has stated that she believes Mackenzie is lying. On the other hand, Mackenzie has received support as well. Chynna Phillips, Michelle’s daughter with John, has publicly supported her half sister, and other friends of the family have come forward to substantiate the incest claim as well.

Michelle Phillips asked people to take what Mackenzie has to say with a grain of salt. Is this a fair statement? You better believe it is. I say this not to help cast doubt, but because I feel it is important to take in any kind of information like this with an objective eye. Do I believe the claims of incest? Yes, but in the end what I personally believe isn’t the crucial factor here.

Mackenzie Phillips has a right to tell her own life story in her own way just as any of us have, and just as Michelle Phillips does—and has. In 1987, Michelle released her own memoir called California Dreamin’. Locating a copy might require effort since it is no longer in print. John Phillips’ 1986 autobiography Papa John, in which he details his own drug use, is also long out of print but used copies appear to have experienced a surge of new interest (no incest claims apparently exist in that book, so perhaps people are hoping to—forgive the pun—read between the lines).

Mackenzie shares her reaction to her father’s book at the beginning of her own. She acknowledged that he had a right to tell his own story, and she owned her own reaction to that. It is impossible, I would argue, for any of us to share our life’s story without sharing at least small parts of other peoples’ stories as well. Nobody lives his or her life in a vacuum. Our lives intermingle and often collide. That’s life. In every telling of a life story, collisions are to be expected. If none are reported, then it inevitably will lack an important layer of honesty. As a footnote here, I must point out that among the friends and relatives Mackenzie describes in her book, Michelle Phillips comes out smelling like more of a rose than most. I find the irony in this difficult to ignore.

This is a family in turmoil over a deeply personal issue, and they have been sharing their turmoil publicly. It is the kind of material that our news media absolutely adores. For the most part they can just sit back and let it play out on their own stage as the audience inevitably flocks to see the show. From a business standpoint, it makes perfect sense—scandal sells. It sells only because we buy it, often without questioning the validity of much of what we’re purchasing. As Phillips describes in her memoir, she is not merely a victim of incest or her addiction, but at many times a willing participant.

Throughout the entire 300-plus pages she recounts her adventure and owns up to her role in contributing to both the good and the bad of it. Like Phillips, we are willing participants in the sad state of our news media. We helped create it. We are no more victims of this monster than Mackenzie Phillips is of her various demons. Perhaps we have more to learn from Mackenzie Phillips and others like her than we realize.

In one of my recent videos for YouTube, I provided a far shorter review of this book. One of my regular commenters, a YouTuber by the user name of DL737, shared his reaction to what I had to say. I believe his succinct response summarizes this whole spectacle best: “When will we learn not to judge a book by it's cover—or its publicity tour?”

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

"Wishful Drinking"'s Carrie Fisher on The Today Show: "I was invited to a mental hospital. And you don't want to be rude, right? So you go."

The brilliant Carrie Fisher spills on her Broadway show Wishful Drinking (officially opening Oct. 4), her tell-all book by the same name, "Hollywood in-breeding," being bipolar (and funny as hell!), her alcohol and drug addictions and knowing Michael Jackson. She offers this amazing bit of MJ insight: "A proper drug addict—not that I would know—takes drugs to feel altered. He just wanted out of the game."

If only my mentally ill friends and family members were one-tenth as cogent (and witty) as this chick. Help us, Carrie Fisher. You're our only hope!

I'm also excited to share that RetroalityTV was the very first entity Carrie began following on her new Twitter account. As a fan of her laugh-out-loud humor and live-out-loud candor—and, at age 5-7, one of the first proud owners of the official Princess Leia Organa action figure, Pez dispenser and bubble bath circa '77-'79—there is no higher honor.

Buy her book (now in paperback) and see her show!