Encounterculture

The following was, in its entirity, the snarky-ass entry I had planned on writing about the VMAs last night:

"The VMAs happened last night."

As you may be able to discern, I am somewhat hostile to the continued existence of the VMAs. But then I got into work and heard about the Madonna/Britney/Christina thing and...[sheepish grin] yeah. Dammit, I'm a man. On some level I'm sure it's just cultural conditioning ("hey, lookit them thar fay-muss girlies kissin' each other all sexy-like and whut-fer! YEE-HAW etc."), but oh well. Likewise, I'm sure that their motivation behind the stunt was less than pure, to use the least applicable term to unfortunately spring to the front of my mind; there's a giant wad of comments on Fark about how they're just doing it because sex sells or whatever. That may well be the case; I can't say that I understand the intuitive leap between "girls making out" and "buy buy buy", but then again, it's aimed primarily at a demographic where Chingy is (however momentarily) a commodity.

But whatever. None of that diminishes the awesomeness of the event, and by "awesomeness", I don't mean that in a Womyn's Movement/Fuck The Advertisers/Ideology-Of-The-Week kind of way. In this age when marketing and testing has gotten so specified that they can essentially make a movie literally about my life(called American Splendor - and no, I'm not harboring delusions that I'm Harvey Pekar, but he's a frustrated cynical rabidly-self-pitying guy who files medical records. Conenct the fucking dots, people.), it's good to see that deep down, I'm just as much of a pervert as the rest of the world. Sometimes a cigar, to borrow another unfortunately contextual phrase, is just a cigar :)