I called my father today because I had a serious question for him.
Gina: "Dad, when I was a young girl, would you have let me spend the night at Michael Jackson's house?"
Dad: "I wouldn't let you stay over there if you were an adult!"
Good old Dad. He knows just what to do to keep a kid from getting molested! I'm not so sure that other parents have the same presence of mind.
There are plenty of theories about MJ and his penchant for spending inordinate amounts of time with children. Some say he's being set up, others say that the media is picking on him. I have the unpopular theory that he's guilty -- at least partially, anyway. Whether or not he molested 8 kids is questionable, but the fact is that he was doing something. I don't know what, but it was definitely something sick and wrong. You don't just get charged for child molestation for being kind to kids.
I love his music, and I think he's made great contributions to pop culture. HOWEVER, being a musical genius doesn't preclude one from being a pedophile. It just doesn't.
And while I don't want to see him go to jail -- because I think he'd be a piece of discolored raw meat after one night -- I would love to see him get help. Because, let's face it . . . MJ is far from a normal guy. He's a therapist's dream. He never has been normal, and after all of that plastic surgery and skin dying, I'm going to guess that he never will be. While the world is chock full of abnormality, our friend Mr. Jackson takes it to entirely new levels.
But, far be it for me to convict the guy based on my theories. There are other possibilities, I suppose. I do actually think it's interesting that this investigation is on the heels of his new album release. Hmmm . . . .
Ranted by Gina B. @ 4:55 PM
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Monday, November 17, 2003
Holidays are, once again, sneaking up on me, and I think that I should take the time to prepare for the "holiday questions" or HQs, for sake of simplicity.
HQs, often posed by relatives and old friends of the family who I see once a year, annoy the living shit out of me because they're either brimming with underlying meanings and hidden agendas, or designed to put you on the spot. For example:
"Do I ever get to see your house? When are you having us all over for dinner?"
Fortunately, I can laugh this one off. The thing I can't do in response to this question is to say that I don't have dinner parties because I can't cook. Not only would this be a blatant lie (because I love to cook), but it would only spark more HQs:
"That's the problem with you girls. None of you can cook. That's why you don't have men. Do any of your friends plan to get married this year?"
I'm guessing that 'Bite Me' would be a wildly inappropriate response?
My other personal fave HQ is:
"How's the book doing? "
I try very hard to skirt this topic, because I don't really have anything positive to report. I try to keep my response really brief:
"It's alright, I guess" (or fill in any similar bland, non-committal statement)
They press on:
"Have you done any more marketing for it? You know, I have an idea. You should . . . [blah, blah, blah]"
And while I realize that these people are being sincerely helpful, it's almost as if they think I haven't really given any thought to the marketing of my own compilation. As though I haven't done a cost-benefit analysis and realized that a huge marketing expenditure couldn't possibly give me a good return on investment.
They give me ludicrous suggestions, like:
"You should get on Oprah."
How many minutes can I laugh at this before tears begin to roll down my face? Of COURSE I should get on Oprah. EVERYONE should get on Oprah. And of course Oprah has called me hundreds of times, literally begging to have me on the show, to use my book for her book club and give me an interview. Then they say:
"You should send her a copy of the book."
Once again, the laughter. I'm quite sure that Oprah opens her own mail, and would see a bright pink book called the G-Spot -- or something -- and give me a personal call.
And the next HQ is usually:
"When are you writing another one?"
I don't even entertain that one. I usually respond by asking for another helping of whatever liquor is being served.
I think I can survive as long as I plan for these questions (and maybe take a mild muscle relaxer before holiday parties). It's painful to go through, but it's retrospectively humorous. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
Ranted by Gina B. @ 9:06 AM
HQs, often posed by relatives and old friends of the family who I see once a year, annoy the living shit out of me because they're either brimming with underlying meanings and hidden agendas, or designed to put you on the spot. For example:
"Do I ever get to see your house? When are you having us all over for dinner?"
Fortunately, I can laugh this one off. The thing I can't do in response to this question is to say that I don't have dinner parties because I can't cook. Not only would this be a blatant lie (because I love to cook), but it would only spark more HQs:
"That's the problem with you girls. None of you can cook. That's why you don't have men. Do any of your friends plan to get married this year?"
I'm guessing that 'Bite Me' would be a wildly inappropriate response?
My other personal fave HQ is:
"How's the book doing? "
I try very hard to skirt this topic, because I don't really have anything positive to report. I try to keep my response really brief:
"It's alright, I guess" (or fill in any similar bland, non-committal statement)
They press on:
"Have you done any more marketing for it? You know, I have an idea. You should . . . [blah, blah, blah]"
And while I realize that these people are being sincerely helpful, it's almost as if they think I haven't really given any thought to the marketing of my own compilation. As though I haven't done a cost-benefit analysis and realized that a huge marketing expenditure couldn't possibly give me a good return on investment.
They give me ludicrous suggestions, like:
"You should get on Oprah."
How many minutes can I laugh at this before tears begin to roll down my face? Of COURSE I should get on Oprah. EVERYONE should get on Oprah. And of course Oprah has called me hundreds of times, literally begging to have me on the show, to use my book for her book club and give me an interview. Then they say:
"You should send her a copy of the book."
Once again, the laughter. I'm quite sure that Oprah opens her own mail, and would see a bright pink book called the G-Spot -- or something -- and give me a personal call.
And the next HQ is usually:
"When are you writing another one?"
I don't even entertain that one. I usually respond by asking for another helping of whatever liquor is being served.
I think I can survive as long as I plan for these questions (and maybe take a mild muscle relaxer before holiday parties). It's painful to go through, but it's retrospectively humorous. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
