Another reason to stab your colonizer: Dirt Cookies.



Poor Haitians Resort To Eating Dirt

When I was prego, I craved ice chips and the smell of Pine-Sol, which my girl Faith told me was a mild form of pica. But after reading the story, I am not buying that load of crap that dirt cookies are actually good for pregnant women in third world slums. I mean, rich broads around the world are getting 24K gold leaf facials, smearing $300 La Mer algae-infused cream on their asses and people are supposed to believe that mud is good for antacid and calcium. Someone please donate the Tums they have chillin' in the back of their medicine cabinet! People will try to convince the poor of the illest shit to fund their greed. This disgusts me.



Dirt cookies are for boys who pick on you in grade school, not mothers trying to nourish their newborn.

Fend off attackers and learn English simultaneously.



Want to learn more?




I don't know about you, but I'm down to flip this track. The breaks are ill!

GBT #2: FAKE ASS PHOTOGRAPHERS AND THE FAKE MODELS THEY SNAP




UGH. This is one of the questions that plague humanity, like, "What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Thanks to celebrity worship and the DIY vanity of such sites as Myspace and Facebook, where people can live a pseudo-lifestyle apart from real human interaction, the internet is teeming with "photographers" that fill their portfolio with pictures of "actress/models" that will do anything for a headshot.

And I mean, anything. Get hosed in someone's suburban backyard. Make out with their homegirl. Pose in their skivvies with a finger in their mouth in a Home Depot parking lot. It seems that everyone thinks they're a model nowadays, even the dorky chicks in high school who could barely get a date. Quite frankly, its sickening and I don't know who to blame. As plentiful as there are women who love seeing themselves a little too much, there are pervy, amateur photogs that are willing to exploit their narcissism.




The funny thing is, I am surrounded by awesome women photographers and photojournalists, such as Amanda Lopez, Kirstina Sangsachart, and Nina Parks, who have yet to do a raunchy, half-naked photoshoot with "aspiring" male models to beef up their resume. And one of my freshest homeboy photogs, Peter Graham gets crazy gigs shooting Young Buck, Too $hort, and other hot celebs without leaning back on a stack full of sprawled-out broads to prove his chops. Not everyone can be Estevan Oriol, or Yone, but even that comes with its own issues.

Guerilla Bus Token: If you claim to be a true photographer, choose another subject besides girls with low self-esteem. Otherwise you're just another lonely boy with a toy.

It's About Time.




Marie Claire did a photo story on the women warriors of the New People's Army in the Philippinesn in their February 2008 issue.









Although the United States classifies the N.P.A. as "terrrorists" because of their Communist beliefs, as they do other freedom fighters all across the world, Mindanao is the only region in the Philippines that has never been colonized and exploited.


In Luzon and all across the Philippines, girls as young as eight years old are drawn into sex trafficking as a means to support their family and uplift the dilapidated economy of the Philippines. And since the current regime of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is Bush-sympathetic and marked as one of the highest human-rights violators since the beginning of her term, it serves many young women no other choice but to join the rebels in the fight to keep the sovereignty of their homeland.

Kudos to Andrew Marshall for pitching and reporting on this very real situation in the Phils. And even more Kudos to MC for bringing this issue into the halfwitted and superficial world of women's periodicals. Go ahead and pick that up.

Coming Soon...


Master copy cookin in MAMA's Kitchen...

MISSBEHAVE Mag gets an Internet Spanking




While ingesting my daily dose of Jezebel today, I stumbled upon a post about Missbehave Magazine, a kitschy lady mag that launched within the past year as a sisterly spin-off of Mass Appeal. Now before I repeat what was posted or even contribute my own opinion, let me address that I write for Mass Appeal on occasion and have met some of the sistas that hold Missbehave down: Mary HK Choi, and Samantha Moeller, during my summer stay in NY working at Rolling Stone in Manhattan. Let me also add that I am hands down, abso-fucking-lutely a huge Jezebel follower and reader, and believe that the dialogue and critique between them - although harsh at times - was necessary.

Here are the two posts for those missing out:

Partying with the Ill Girls of Missbehave Magazine

A Love Letter to Missbehave Magazine


Some of the most controversial topics were Missbehave's claim to "not be feminists", which pissed quite a few Jezzies off, the inclusive and superfluous slang of the mag, and whether or not those two woman-centered venues of media could coexist in a game dominated by hipster versions of the opposite gender.

Here's my take:


First of all, props to Missbehave. I have heard of it since the conception of the mag through my editor Maclean Jackson over at Mass Appeal, and commend its attempt to balance the lopsided arena of hipsterdom that reigns supreme in all NY-based mags of urban subculture. The women that run it, from what I've experienced and read first-hand, are savvy, educated, and not dorky nerds waiting to execute their social retribution. To create anything that is woman-run and continue on without much support or avid solicitation of male-approval is to be applauded. That being said...


I also do agree with the Jezzies on certain points: the garish and oft-ostentatious language that can be exclusive to people that don't hang out at The Bench in the LES, go to Oxy Cottontail parties, or reside in NY post-grad and find it "totally rad". The awesome thing about Jezebel lies within its own internet democracy; women of all races, classes, and cultural niches have their opportunity to chime in about what they think and check each other in a non-catty way. I don't agree with some of the fucked up things they said about the ladies of Missbehave, but I do think that an equally powerful gathering of women challenging another is great, especially when sometimes the cliquey-ness of the MB gaggle is blatantly apparent (MA, Vapors, XXL, Vibe, much?)

Also, the first-person narratives of MB, while cute and quirky at times, can get a little self-centered and take away from the need of more CONTENT. In J-School, first person was hugely frowned upon, and I was disappointed at the rampant use of it in MB, as well as all other new-school magazines that don't follow classic journalistic protocol (such as "Who that fuck are you, to talk in first person?! Get to the damn story!") But along with advertising and editorial becoming frequent bedfellows, publications these days are losing their integrity faster than Britney is losing custody of the kiddos.

As far as the whole "we're not feminists" argument, I can see the perspective of both sides. Feminism, or the label that entails it, was stigmatized in the 70s by man-hating, bra-burning bourgeoise women that ruined it for many future lady rebels who were for women's lib, but not acting independent of the opposite gender. But on behalf of Jezebel, disowning the label altogether, and all the work that continues under that umbrella term, is a huge disservice to the audience that MB is relying on for support and circulation.

To MB, don't take the Jezebel criticisms too harshly, but do listen to their points. And to Jezebel, bringing up Samantha's husband and Mary's suspiciously-privileged background was entertaining, but still jacked up, and some of MB's shit really is intelligent and funny. DILF-Hunter, anyone?

How...Anti-Climactic

Several months ago, I participated in a debate on The Filipino Channel about Censorship of Rap Music. The discussion mainly focused on the N-word, but also touched on the B-word, and includes a panel for and against censorship in Hip-Hop. Present, were members of the NAACP on the opposing panel, versus myself, Ren the Vinyl Archaeologist and my boy Dex, who's a producer/MC.
The episode in entirety itself was great: thought provoking and boundary-pushing for such a fluff-filled show as Speak Out can be on occasion, depending on the topic. But the YouTube edited version was bland and edited poorly to leave out some of the most controversial debates. Nonetheless, here it is, in all of its tepid glory. BOO.