Certain fashion trends need to die. The return of popped collars? Horribly reminiscent of American Psycho era high society serial killers. Tissue paper thin jersey anything? Guaranteed to make anyone look lumpy and dowdy. Really long and pointy toes on shoes? If freakishly long and misshapen feet are your thing, all the power to you.
Some fashion trends, though, should never be born...
Daniel Edwards, the New York-based artist who brought us such sculptural creepiness as Britney Spears giving birth, Suri Cruise's first poop, and an autopsied Paris Hilton attended by her chihuahua, has made yet another strangely discomfiting move along his career path as a cheezy attention whore an artist.
He now brings us Landmark for Breastfeeding, a life-size Angelina Jolie sitting naked while simultaneously breastfeeding twins:
I just realized my title makes this sound worse than it is, or possibly better depending on how your mind works. Either way, the story is this: Rihanna was at her favorite tattoo parlor just hanging out with BangBang and the boys when those crazy kids thought it would be a good idea if Rihanna was on the giving end - of some tattoos.
Apparently she did a lovely job but there was a hitch.
Tim Burton and Alice in Wonderland - the two are a match made in heaven, or possibly hell, but either way this was a movie that was destined to be.
When I first heard that Burton was directing a version of the Lewis Carroll acid trip novel (oddly while playing Trivial Pursuit on my iPhone, the question came up about who would was slated to play the Red Queen in Tim Burton's upcoming film "Alice in Wonderland". Obviously I guessed Helena Bonham Carter because 1) She is his girlfriend, 2) she is in all of his movies and 3) she is perfect for this role.) I rejoiced. I knew that this film was going to be a visual masterpiece.
Then I tried to figure out who Johnny Depp was going to be. I gave myself three guesses but really we all only need one.
Let's face it: things right now are...not great. The situation in Iran gets more and more intense every day. The economy is still utter poo. Psychos are out in full force and heavily armed. Personally, I often find myself feeling pretty crappy about being a member of the human race. And sometimes, when I'm that kind of mood, I just really need somebody to look down on. I'm not saying it's good or healthy, but sometimes I just need help getting out of bed with the knowledge that I'm not the biggest idiot around.
Enter Ugliest Tattoos.
Did you know there's a recession going on? I read about it on Twitter. Apparently people have fallen on the collective hard times including the handsome devil that lives in my mirror- Fairest. Of. Them. All. I vote that we all fall on the collective High Times should this happen again, the one with Willie Nelson on the cover. I think Studs Terkel would back me on this. Also, Snoop Dogg.
Perhaps it would make you feel better to see someone else suffering. I know that I always enjoy it. Well, you're in luck. It seems that some others have slipped from their pedestals and landed in a little thing the kids call life. Not the cereal. The slippers? Princesses.
When I heard they were remaking Footloose, I gnashed my teeth and clutched my chest and flipped over the kitchen table. It was a scene. The table was all done up for dinner and dishes went flying and food everywhere and glasses smashing and silverware went ting ting ting. I fell to my knees and raised both fists in the air and made this guttural animal noise that was undoubtedly indicative of dark and primal forces.
But then, in the lucid moment of reflection that followed, I deemed that reaction excessive. Don't get me wrong. On the surface, I think Footloose was a terrible 80s disaster. But a reaction so violent denotes value of a kind. What, I wondered, dwelled in the formal structure of Footloose that unleashed so much vital power?
Artist Alison Silva was a painter of adequate talent who started getting blinding headaches. Fearful for her health, of course, she went to a series of doctors and found out that she had a benign tumor pressing on her brain. Right next to her memory center, the tumor could easily cause seizures or death. What it did do was give Alison incredible inner vision that has transformed her into a painter that is selling her work at $7,500 a pop. So...she's putting her art first and keeping her tumor.
No, this isn't an episode of House. This is a true story, and Alison Silva really is keeping her tumor.
Man, it gives new meaning to the phrase "suffering for your art," huh?
I love David Lynch's work and the reason might scare you a little bit, but here it goes: his movies (and TV show) are one of the most accurate depictions of life I've ever seen. I don't mean that, on a day-to-day basis, dwarves regularly speak backwards to me or that my husband has the potty mouth of Frank Booth. But just in general, when I stop and look around and actually observe what's going on, things feel really weird most of the time and I think David Lynch gets that.
People, please put down your life-sized cardboard cutouts of Robert Pattinson and stop chewing on your Nutrageous bars. And please don't think about the Abortion Plane. It's time on MamaPop to get serious. Because the spectre of Vincent van Gogh has once more risen from the grave TO FEED UPON THE LIVING reputations of art historians.
According to The Guardian, which is a better newspaper than a manhole cover,* it seems that Vincent van Gogh may not have cut off his own ear, as legend has it. It may in fact have been fellow painter and unhinged SOB Paul Gauguin.
Do you know those fragments of pop culture that you adore so much that you feel compelled to tell everyone you know how awesome they are? Sure you do - we're nothing if not overzealous here at MamaPop, and we pretty much only blog about pop culture so that other people will love/hate the same things as us, because this makes us feel closer to you as human beings in this dark, lonely world.
Until last year, Shepard Fairey was probably most known for his ubiquitous "Obey Giant" images, which feature screen prints of the late Andre the Giant (whom you may recall as the lovable Fezzik from The Princess Bride). Of course now he is far more famous for another poster, the "Hope" poster featuring the now iconic and ubiquitous red, white and blue print of President Obama.
Fairey is now back in the news, having been charged with 17 charges of felony vandalism for posting his artwork on public property in the city of Boston.
sniff.
Best t-shirt ever? Perhaps. Unless you know of one you think is better? Well do ya? Huh, punk?
(Actually, this one brings tears of joy to my eyes as well.)
I have always thought that artwork represents emotions that words cannot convey. Whether it is a photograph or a painting, digital or in charcoal, art speaks without words. but what if a piece of art, provocative art at that, is prefaced by saying it has no meaning?
What if that art was the representation of a woman's beaten face?
According to artist Sham Ibrahim, his digital art of Rhianna's infamous police photograph, in which the singer is beaten and bruised, her eyes closed in a position of defeat and pain, has no message behind it at all. In fact, it's all about the pretty colors he got to use.
Well you can use all 64 crayons in the box to color me pissed.
Warner Bros has released the second poster for Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are on Yahoo.com. Can you tell we here on MamaPop are just, oh, a wee bit excited about this movie? What, did all the OMG OMG OMG-ing and SQUEE!-ing give it away? Uhhh yeah.
Ze new poster after le jump!
As you're probably aware, the majority of the staff here at MamaPop fall somewhere in the spectrum of "parent bloggers." Some of us write almost exclusively about our children, and some of us write about other stuff with a dash of, "Oh, yeah, I have a kid," thrown in. Regardless of the amount of parenting material on our blogs, nearly all of us have been accused, whether individually or as a group, of exploiting our children, either for profit or attention.
Our response to that is, of course, "Pshaw." You don't have to believe me, but I can tell you that that's just not the case, especially when you get to see some potential examples of exploitation that will make you squirm. I'm referring to folks like Jon and Kate Gosselin who have a particularly nauseating approach to family life in the spotlight and who are coming under increasing scrutiny. I'm also referring to the far more complicated case of Mark and Laura Olmstead and their daughter Marla.
Rosie O'Donnell has been doing a heavy tour of talk shows lately to promote her new Lifetime Movie, "America", which she wrote, produced, and starred in. As a parent to two foster children herself, the foster care system in the United States and its neglect is an issue close to her heart, and, from accounts I've read so far, it is good film.
I haven't watched "America" yet, but I plan to catch its second airing on March 3rd. It's not really "America" that I want to talk to about here.
Every time I've seen Rosie on television over the last while, she segues from talk of "America" to another of her passions: the Munny. She hand-draws on these Munnies obsessively and sells them at her Etsy shop. All proceeds from the sale of her completed Munny pieces go toward the support of Rosie's Broadway Kids, an organization that "...provides instruction in dance and music and a professional theater experience for children who might otherwise not have the opportunity."
It's not really Rosie's charity that I want to talk about here, either.
It's the Munny. After realizing the incredible creative potential of these gorgeous little dolls, I don't want to live a Munny-less life any longer.
MAMAPOP IS SMART POP CULTURE ANALYSIS, COMMENTARY, MERCILESS FUN-MAKING AND OTHER SUNDRY AWESOME, DISHED UP DAILY BY PARENTS, FOR PARENTS, AND ANYONE ELSE WHO UNDERSTANDS THAT PLAYTIME IS BETTER WITH VODKA. PLEASE TO ENJOY. READ MORE...
