It is no accident that the last real pop superstar, Michael Jackson, hit the apex of his popularity in the Reagan years.
What is ‘Neverland” but a palace dedicated to loss and suffering in the guise of play and whimsy?
The world watched as Michael’s face and skin color morphed. By the time of his death, he looked nothing like the little boy who sang “ABC.”
While the news of Michael Jackson’s death has already caused an explosion of Twitter, I was tempted to go back to a June 5th advice column by Salon’s Cary Tennis.
“We don’t want to tell people where we’re from when we’re on the stage and we’re performing.”
For over a decade, we have been sucked and seduced into a Richard Curtis middle-class hell, populated by fops and cockney stereotypes with hardly a black person in sight.
Watching a couple of toasters slug it out would be more interesting.
Though Ramsay considers himself to be a champion because of his promotion of female chefs, his often misogynist commentary erases the benefit of his actions.
As Mayim roamed from fitting room to fitting room, her biggest concern was that she was not going to “feel like herself.”
Boyle’s image has been shaped by both her gender and working-class background. Much has been made of her frumpy appearance and sheltered life in a small Scottish town.