Category Archives: Celebrity

NEW COLUMN: Lara Logan: ‘Conservative’ Media’s Latest Blond Ambition

Celebrity, Conservatism, Critique, Gender, Journalism, Left-Liberalism, Media

NEW COLUMN is “Lara Logan: ‘Conservative’ Media’s Latest Blond Ambition.” It’s currently on WND.COM and The Unz Review.

An excerpt:

In 2018, Lara Logan left her perch as foreign correspondent for CBS’s “highest-rated, most profitable and best-known program, ‘60 Minutes.’”

She is currently doing the rounds, assuaging “conservative” media’s appetite for celebrity. The latter have a Uriah-Heep like propensity to fawn over swamp-based, defecting, big-name media celebs.

It’s as though Logan is job hunting, on a blond-ambition tour—for she certainly has no news to impart other than a few banal catchphrases. Logan has “revealed,” first to Breitbart podcaster Mike Ritland, that—OMG! —the media are “mostly liberal.”

Yes, Logan has been pontificating about the tritest of truths: the media are liberal.

Ever in search of defecting celebrities around whom to create buzz, the pack dogs of “conservative” media picked up Logan’s scent and gave chase. Mission accomplished.

In a lovey-dovey, public tête-à-tête, Fox News’ Sean Hannity hinted to his higherups at Fox that they should hire Logan. One wishes they’d do this self-congratulatory cable-news porn behind closed doors. Like we don’t already suffer an abundance of Fake News, No-News and salacious news.

Most remarkable was how quick cons were to decorate Logan with a journalistic purple heart for stating-the-obvious-while-filthy-rich—“a hero, she’s committing professional suicide” went their hyperbole.

Again: Logan left CBS in 2018. She always ran with the intellectual herd. It’s now time to reinvent herself after, likely, blowing up one too many roads.

Is it not obvious that Logan is hoping to fill Megyn Kelly’s stilettoes at Fox News? For there is no way in which she could aspire to emulate old-school journalists like Sharyl Attkisson and Sarah Carter for whom Logan offered plaudits on “Hannity.”

Indeed, it would appear that Logan’s blond-ambition tour is to make herself over in the image of women reporters who’ve always embodied a conservative ethos by doing their work with great refinement. For Attkisson and Carter, it’s about the story; not the cleavage.

Not so with Logan, whose career has been marred by a showy exhibitionism as good as Kelly’s—except that Logan is far and away the less brainy of the two celebrity journalists and the more scandal prone (not that scandal would deter “conservatives,” who’ve practically capitulated to the elastic moral standards of the liberals).

In 2008, the former swimwear model made headlines for her role as … “home-wrecker.” Logan had become embroiled in an affair with a married man, while carrying on simultaneously with talented war correspondent Michael Ware (“just a one-night stand”). Her CBS  employers knew the drill: They relocated their wayward correspondent from Baghdad to Washington.

As implied, “the drill” had been rehearsed …

… READ THE REST. NEW COLUMN, “Lara Logan: ‘Conservative’ Media’s Latest Blond Ambition,” is currently on WND.COM and The Unz Review.

UPDATE (2/22):

About the Lara Logan expose, Bill Meyer, brilliant radio man out of Oregon, commented at WND (scroll down): "Ilana, THIS…

Posted by Ilana Mercer on Friday, February 22, 2019

 

UPDATED (2/19): NEW COLUMN: Grammys: Great Porn, Maybe, But Music It Was NOT

Art, Celebrity, Critique, Music, Sex

NEW COLUMN is “Grammys: Great Porn, Maybe, But Music It Was NOT.” It’s now on WND.COM and The Unz Review. An excerpt:

I used to have some respect for Lady Gaga. With all her pretentious Yoko Onanisms, Stefani Germanotta, Gaga’s real name, is actually a hard-working and, at times, polished singer.

But to watch Gaga, at the 61st Grammy Awards, perform a number called “Shallow” was to endure an assault on the eyes and the ears.

Legs permanently splayed like an arthritic street walker, Gaga traipsed around catatonically, attempting to head-bang, but getting disoriented. Some things are best left to a macho, metal-head guy.

Gaga’s look was not a good one. But her sound, which is what counts here, was positively terrible. Yet, Gaga—lugging microphone and mount around like a geriatric with a walker—was a highlight in what was a pornographic, cacophonous extravaganza.

Aside the gorgeous Alicia Keys, host of the 2019 Grammys, who is talented and charming, and Dolly Parton, a consummate pro—the event showcased the gutter culture that is the American music scene. The country is truly in the musical sewer.

The petulant female artists, so proud of their seized power, showcased power, all right—but it was all in the hips, the pelvis, and in thrusts and twerks of the tush. Not one transcendent, inspiringly beautiful dance move did these throngs of crass stompers execute, on the pimped stage.

Janelle Monáe? The sum total of this artiste’s musical “talent” is simulating sex on stage. “Let the v-gina monologue,” she hissed venomously at her adoring, masochistic fans, while moving her nether regions to a base, atavistic beat. Indeed, in an orifice, Miss Monáe has found the right interlocutor.

Let us stipulate for the record that this is never about lyrics. Cardi B screaming that she “likes morning sex” but that nothing in this world does she love “more than checks” is not an issue.

Put it this way, if the greatest composer ever, Johann Sebastian Bach, set his divine, god-like cantatas to the saucy, naughty lyrics of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, would I decry his sublime composition as immoral? Don’t be daft. The music of J.S. Bach would still be sublime if it were set to Cardi B’s gutter language.

My point: Cardi B doesn’t make music. The category for which she and her sisters should be nominated, if I am being charitable, is street theater.

Incessant, asinine, genital-speak is one of the things that distinguishes these female artistes (as in “a person with artistic pretensions”) and makes them particularly repulsive. Do they not realize some things are best left veiled and mysterious?

Women of Monáe’s ilk are first to robotically protest the objectification of their sex, but are complicit in ensuring that The Act itself suffers the very same fate: sex has been made an object, a fashionable accessory, part of an empowering, emasculating life-style.

Screaming there was aplenty at Grammys No. 61. But good voices? None at all. Informed we were that the insipid Kacey Musgraves, a two-chord whiner, is what passes for country music, these days. …

… READ THE REST. NEW COLUMN, “Grammys: Great Porn, Maybe, But Music It Was NOT,” is now on WND.COM and The Unz Review

UPDATE (2/19/019):

Linda Ronstadt on modern country music:

I don’t listen to modern country music. I don’t care for it particularly. I like old country music, when it still came out of the country. What they call country music now is what I call Midwest mall-crawler music. You go into big-box stores and come out with huge pushcarts of things. It’s not an agrarian form anymore. When it comes out of the country, it’s not farmers or woodsmen, or whatever. It doesn’t make much sense. It’s just suburban music.

61st Grammy Awards: Another Great Porn Show. Music It Was NOT

Aesthetics, Art, Celebrity, Culture, Music, Sex

Other than the gorgeous Alicia Keys, host of the 61st Grammy Awards, who has talent and is certainly charming, and Dolly Parton, a total pro—the show showcased the gutter culture that is the American music scene. We are now truly in the musical sewer.

The petulant female artists, so proud of their seized power, showcased nothing much but hip movements, pelvic thrusts and tush twerking. Not one inspiring beautiful dance did these crass stompers execute on the elaborate stage.

Janelle Monáe? Sum total of her “talent” is simulating sex on stage.

‘We need a new word to do this justice … vulvic?’ Janelle Monáe’s Pynk.

Screaming? Oh yes. Good voices? Nada. The insipid Kacey Musgraves is a two-chord whiner who makes me miss Sarah McLachlan.

Great melodies? Nothing; other than a few truly great old songs botched by the newbies’ ugly warbling: it’s the custom. Nobody learns to sing properly.  For example, a screaming duo, Chloe x Halle, absolutely mutilated the exquisite, emotional song, “Where Is The Love,” performed in 1972 by Donny Hathaway and the magical Roberta Flack.

Again, not one memorable song did I hear, sporting a decent chord progression and some melodic variety; not one vaguely competent guitarist or instrumentalist: nothing.

Understandable. Why bother to acquire instrumental proficiency, instruction in composition and voice training when the swaying hips, jutting pelvises or just attitude (Dua Lipa) are what’s on sale and  in demand?

I used to have some respect for Lady Gaga. But to watch Gaga, legs permanently splayed like an arthritic hooker, traipsing around clumsily, attempting to head-bang, but getting disoriented (yeah, it takes a metal-head guy to do that), then lugging microphone and mount around like a geriatrics with a walker and Depends: this was not good, to put it mildly.

The tartlets I watched “sing” at this Grammys would have been even more inaudible and tuneless were it not for the Auto-Tune: the “holy grail of recording,” that “corrects intonation problems in vocals or solo instruments, in real time, without distortion or artifacts.”

This T & A line-up would be reduced to even more embarrassing grunts, out-of-tune yelps, and bedroom whispers, if not for the Auto-Tune.

Most of the performers were  G-d-awful as musicians. They sustain one or two pitches and exhibited little proficiency on any of the instruments they belabor.

A Secret About The Privileged Trevor Noah

Celebrity, Comedy & Humor, Political Correctness, South-Africa

Every authentic South African wants to punch the untalented ex-pat Trevor Noah. This privileged celebrity, host of the once-funny Daily Show, hasn’t a funny bone in his body. Yet his job is comedy. Nightly, Noah disgraces South Africa, a country that once had a vibrant, impolitic, satire and comedy tradition.

Isn’t our Trevor original? About the Covington Kids, and, in particular, Nick Sandmann, Trevor Noah said this: “Everyone ‘Wants to Punch That Kid.”