But we don't always need that. Sometimes, trash is its own reward. Individually, the sins are small ones, but they're like potato chips, and you just wanna go for one more. Collectively, the pieces fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and what takes shape is an express ticket to hell.

The Chicksy Dicks

By now, you've seen the cover of Entertainment Weekly.

Caught the Diane Sawyer interview, and this CNN article, titled: Chicks defiant with interview, nude cover. Emily Robison, Natalie Maines and Martie Maguire are confused, they don't understand what happened. "I'm concerned about my safety," says Robison, referring to the metal detectors used at their concerts now. "When you're getting death threats...But we have to take precautions because this thing has gotten so out of control."

Let's look at this image a moment. Their bodies are labeled with a collage of their own logos and the symbols of an imagined mock-audience. In a sense, they are everywoman: screens upon which we project the values we want to see, canvas painted in the language of patriarchy, and the idea of their selves superficially covered, yet individually inviolate. You want to wash the stenciled insults from their flesh in reciprocal acknowledgement of an offered vulnerability. And look at 'em, yeah.

Proceed with Caushun

Gotta love this chap: Caushun—The Gay Rapper.

Been seeing stories about this guy here and there, but didn't expect to see his profile in the International Herald Tribune. For all the talk about homophobia going around lately, one tends to forget that black culture is unforgiving in this respect, and the hip-hop world is particularly straight-laced. Caushun is remarkable for his courage in breaking a barrier within a subculture, or trying to, anyway.

Executives from major hip-hop labels, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said there was little chance of an openly gay rapper succeeding in the ultra-homophobic world of hip-hop. "A manager plays a record for us and it's incredible, then the manager says, 'Oh by the way, he's gay.' Everything stops. I really think we would probably tell him don't talk about it. Don't rock the boat."

The Immaterial Girl

Speaking of black holes, how about Madonna's new release? I'll admit it: I bought Ray of Light, and found it quite listenable. Madonna knows how to grow with her music, changing with the times and changing them in turn, reinventing herself in each incarnation. But like that haywire telepod thing in The Fly, sometimes there's an accident in the metamorphosis.

Like this trainwreck. American Life is generating worse reviews than Shanghai Surprise:

"Too often, the album approaches the folkie psychobabble of songwriters like Jewel."—New York Times

"A confused and confusing mess."—The Chicago Sun-Times

"For the first time in a remarkable 20-year record-making career, Madonna pours that near-mythic knack for reinvention into a spectacularly stinky artistic black hole."—The Philadelphia Inquirer

"'American Life'...is not only the the most wretchedly empty thing she's ever done, it's also one of those big-budget projects that make sense only as megastar indulgence, a cloying mess of beats and noise and meaningless wounded-childhood outpourings."—Ibid

Beyond Belief

If there's one thing that makes me feel like an idiot, it's those public service announcements, particularly the ones they put up in bus kiosks. Targeted at the IQ level of tree bark, these homilies make you ashamed to be human. Turns out the British do the same thing, and just as badly.

London's mayor, Ken Livingstone, got to work with some religious types and after a few minutes of scribbling they came up with the BELIEVE campaign. It's this poster (pdf available here), with the following text appearing beneath the word "believe":

"In Islam. In Christianity. In all faiths. In Arsenal. In Spurs, Chelsea, West Ham, Charlton and Fulham. In PS2. In 95.8. In txt (safe). In holidays. In Father Christmas (maybe). In Mis-Teeq, Blue and Kylie. In salt 'n' vinegar. In pocket money. In MTV. In Zee TV. In denim. In Sven, Becks and Nasser. In Harry Potter. In Frodo Baggins. In the future. In friendship. In the most culturally diverse city on earth. In London."

The Vielle Deal

A British inventor, Liz Paul, has created quite a sensation at the British Female Inventor of the Year Awards show, which ends today.

The device, which you can see here at left, is called the Vielle, and is "a small plastic stimulator with eight nodules which fits over the finger."

Speaking at the award ceremony in Cafi Royal central London, Mrs Paul said clinical tests had proved the device could halve the time it takes for a woman to climax and intensify the orgasm.

Thong Intentions

Women in Wisconsin are resting easier knowing that the infamous "thong thief" has finally been taken into custody.

Turned out to be Anthony Scholfield, a 22-year-old college student who was nabbed Sunday morning breaking into a house in Menomonie.

When officers later executed a search warrant at the suspect's home, they discovered a whopping 854 pairs of thong underwear, which investigators found stuffed everywhere—in shoe boxes, a briefcase, and even a Pokemon lunch pail.

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