My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Book Expo 2009

This banner says "Harlequin celebrates 60 years of pure reading pleasure." Gross.


The annual debauched bakesale known as Book Expo--or BEA, for those needing to save time--took place this past weekend at New York's original den of sin, the Javits Center on 11th and 34th, where Andy Warhol used to hold his quiche-eating contests. The Javits Center, y'all, is depraved enough to charge $2.25 for a banana at one of their snack kiosks--the same snack kiosks where they sell chocolate crack to children--so you just know they're not gonna scrimp on the crazy. Sponge Bob was there giving lap dances = proof.



Just like at Studio 54 during olden times, the stars were out and ready to party, trolling the various booths of the Center looking for pills and poppers. I saw Julie Andrews being interviewed by C-SPAN and she was so strung out I'm surprised she was able to even sit up. Witness it:



She is simply dying to snort some blow off of that woman's breasts. It is so obvious.

There were also aliens:



I availed myself of one of those free probes while thumbing through Johns Hopkins University Press's Fall 2009 catalogue. And shivering.

Naturally, up next was my date with destiny: Bob McGrath, the main pimp from Sesame Street, out promoting some awful kids sing-along CD. I bought five, which I'll be giving to my future children, if my boyfriend Jimmy ever has the decency to get pregnant.




Oh, and you just KNOW there were scantily clad dancers and drums. Someone had to break the sexual tension.



In conclusion, at BEA this year I learned that the future of publishing is coming soon.

Obama Announces Country's First Openly Type 1 Diabetic Supreme Court Nominee

We all look to the justices on the Supreme Court to reflect our own lives, passions, and/or dreams. This is obvious, and it's why I'm not a little bit disappointed that Obama didn't choose Susan Boyle or Harry Hamlin from Clash of the Titans for this highest of high offices. Of course, I'm used to not seeing myself in the Alitos, Scalias, and Kennedys that recent US Presidents have been appointing to the bench. After all, what could I possibly have in common with a gaggle of non-diabetic old men who have never had a dick in their mouths (except Scalia)? Not much! But now that is all changing, thanks to one Sonia Sotomayor, who made history today by being the first openly type 1 diabetic person to be nominated to the Supreme Court.

I obviously have a lot in common with Ms. Sotomayor: the childhood in the Bronx; being a Latina; circuit (court) parties. But the most important thing we share is insulin dependency--and, I have no doubt, a pathological need to eat Little Debbie snack cakes when our blood sugar goes low. It doesn't matter if it's Nutty Bars, Fudge Rounds, Star Crunch, Devil Squares, Zebra Cakes, or Oatmeal Creme Pies; if the glucose dips below 60, we'll be at Little Debbie's house, eatin'.

This is a huge step forward for Type 1 diabetics across this great nation. But not for Type II diabetics. They're still fat lazy slobs.

Jukebox: British Blondes from the 80s

It’s time to break out the summertime jams. And what do you think of when you think of summertime jams? That's right: pasty white British bands from the late 80s. More specifically: the “blonde pop” scene in England that was all the rage in the British music tabloids for at least a few months.

This scene included three bands: The Primitives from Coventry, the Darling Buds from Wales, and Transvision Vamp from London. Their defining characteristic was, duh, female lead singers with blonde hair, whose songs betrayed an utter devotion to the sounds of Blondie, Jesus and Mary Chain, and the Buzzcocks. Each made their mark on the British charts with songs like “Crash” (the Primitives), “Big Head’ (the Darling Buds), and “I Want Your Love” (Transvision Vamp). They enjoyed many Melody Maker and NME covers.

Ginned-up pop scenes can’t last forever, though. Tracy Tracy, leader of the Primitives, died her hair red in advance of the band’s second album in 1989 and, just like that, the scene was over. So sad. With Tracy gone, the scene’s followers quickly realized that Transvision Vamp’s Wendy James was just a hot mess who couldn’t really sing and that the Darling Buds’ Andrea Lewis, great as she was, couldn’t really constitute a scene by herself.

They were sweet days while they lasted, though. Let’s go to there!



This was the finger-snapping follow-up to their best-known single "Crash" and it deserved more attention than it ever got. More importantly, it's the last video Tracy ever made as a blonde.

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How hot is guitarist Harley Farr in this video? How can Andrea even concentrate on her tambourine playing with him standing right behind her looking that good? Good God.

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Wendy James was Courtney Love without all the heroin.

Little House's Nellie Oleson to Save the Publishing Industry

Well this is great news. Usually reading Publisher's Lunch's "Lunch Weekly" book deal roundup makes me want to vomit, but today's list put a big smile on my face, because has there ever been a greater force for good in the world than Nellie Oleson from Little House on the Prairie? She taught a whole generation of gays how to be insufferable bitches, and for that she deserves our thanks--and our money. Check it:

Star of LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE Alison Arngrim's CONFESSIONS OF A PRAIRIE BITCH, a comic memoir of growing up as one of television's most memorable characters -- the devious Nellie Oleson -- with behind-the-scenes stories from the set, as well as tales from her bohemian upbringing in West Hollywood and her headline-making advocacy work on behalf of HIV awareness and abused children, to Kate Hamill at It Books, at auction, by Kent Wolf at Global Literary Management (NA).

This book will save the entire publishing industry, obviously. They will have to invent a new award for this book, because the Pulitzer is just not going to do it justice. This book will defeat the terrorists.

This book, in conclusion, will be a great excuse for me to dig my Nellie Oleson wig out of my parents' attic. For book parties.

Triplet Jaguar Cubs So Depressed by the Torture Debate

Is there a more depressing conversation happening in the country than the one about whether or not torture works? These three cubs don't think so, and I'm inclined to agree with them.

So, the Republican position these days is: torture works, so we should do it. To which any thinking person might reply, "rape probably works, shall we do that too?" Or "please define works, if you would." To back up their argument, they always turn to the "ticking time bomb" scenario, which happens every week on 24, one of those Hollywood teevee productions that Republicans usually love to dismiss, but in this case they use to bolster their argument. Never mind that we took these torture tactics from the Chinese and the Soviets, which they used to elicit false confessions for political purposes. If there is a ticking time bomb, what is a false confession going to do for us, hmmm? Oh, I know: it will provide that smoking gun of a tie between Iraq and al Qaeda. More stress positions and nude pyramids, please! Ticking time what?

So the Republicans are now happily embracing the acts of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, yay! In the name of freedom. And liberty. And Nobama. And Jesus! Tea bags!

And now we get the entire Cheney family on every talk show on every station in every time zone, forever, saying "torture works" and "we are safer" and Obama is "siding with the terrorists." I think it's time for a Liz Cheney/Jesse Ventura cage match.

In Liz Cheney's defense, she was waterboarded every Christmas morning growing up, so she probably just can't understand what the big deal is and is wondering why everyone hates Christmas so much.