(Above: Jennifer Aniston looking classy on the cover of Vogue. No, no, no, this is not cheap trading off, we'd never run a photo of Jennifer Aniston featured on the cover of a rag like GQ, this is a site with a feminist viewpoint and real dress sense, so read on).
Mark Day on The Punch only the other day:
Just imagine that every time a story appeared about you or your work, your ex and his new wife were also mentioned, as though you’re inextricably attached and can never hope to move on with the amount of horrendous diatribe spouting about him, and her, and you.
You’re not involved anymore – doesn’t anyone get it?
Heck, give me Jennifer Aniston’s bank account, address list, personal trainer, nutritionist, wardrobe, multiple houses, and dress size and you can bet that I wouldn’t be sad OR lonely.
It just gets to me that single men like George Clooney are called playboys, but perennial single women like Jennifer and Cameron Diaz are labeled unlucky in love or pining for a man or looking for a husband. Who’s to say it isn’t their choice? Maybe they’re not ready to get married and have kids.
Maybe they like their life as it is. Ever thought of that?
Liberal Voters: Value honesty and integrity in a relationship, showing they have a different criteria in choosing their life partner from choosing their government.
Green Voters: Clearly concerned about over-populating the planet, they don’t rate parenting skills and they want someone to make them laugh in the face of the environmental destruction of the planet.
Swinging Voters: They don’t care if you have common interests and they are not interested in laughing. The swingers just want a cashed-up love-god who is pleasing on the eye. Kevin and Malcolm, your battleground awaits!
The Punch is essentially a wide-ranging, news-oriented blog. It has links to news stories but does not attempt to report the news except in passing. This reflects the way we “use” news - a part of a conversation may entice us to find out more by searching the subject.
No wonder The Punch is on his favourites list, positioned there by the adept David Penberthy, skilled in mounting Australia's best conversastion.
Like today, with Nedahl Stelio in The Punch, and her rock solid offering and water cooler conversation starter in the typing pool If Jennifer Aniston is sad and lonely then I want in:
Here we go again, another sob story for the saddest, loneliest woman who ever lived. Ugh. I’m sick of Jennifer Aniston being crucified by every glossip mag on the planet for her “not-good-enough” love life. Not good enough for who?
Just imagine that every time a story appeared about you or your work, your ex and his new wife were also mentioned, as though you’re inextricably attached and can never hope to move on with the amount of horrendous diatribe spouting about him, and her, and you.
You’re not involved anymore – doesn’t anyone get it?
Eek, it's Mark Day's idea of new journalism at work. Ugh. Roll over Tom Wolfe, your day has gone.
Erk. Yep indeedy, as part of Australia's most exciting, bestest conversation, we have Nedhal Stelio recycling a story - sorry a mouthwatering tidbit - about the way Jen broke down during the filming of The Bounty in New York a few weeks ago, and stayed in her trailer in tears. Except she didn't, at least if you believe all the denials, also faithfully recycled by a mad as hell Stelio, determined to save Aniston from all those sordid gossip mongers. So unlike her own gossip mongering. Just as I'm so different in my gossip mongering.
What's left after the snide vicious gossip is despatched to the boundary, punted through for a behind?
Well then Stelio slags off all the headline writers, while writing her own headlines about Aniston, which means we have to write a headline about Stelio writing headlines about Aniston. So it goes.
Throw in some stuff about Aniston having a great body, and being friends with Courtney Fox, and any number of men, and playing the field, and a picture of Anistion on GQ's front cover with lots of skin and a striped tie, and there you have it, another great Punch column.
Oh and don't get me wrong. The column's solidly feminist:
Heck, give me Jennifer Aniston’s bank account, address list, personal trainer, nutritionist, wardrobe, multiple houses, and dress size and you can bet that I wouldn’t be sad OR lonely.
It just gets to me that single men like George Clooney are called playboys, but perennial single women like Jennifer and Cameron Diaz are labeled unlucky in love or pining for a man or looking for a husband. Who’s to say it isn’t their choice? Maybe they’re not ready to get married and have kids.
Maybe they like their life as it is. Ever thought of that?
Oh rock on, rock on, feminists are doing it in LA. It's her choice, just like I chose a decaf latte in a McDonalds upsize me cup. Stop it, or I swear I'll burst into a verse of Helen Reddy's I Am Woman, and then you'll hear me roar in numbers too big to ignore. (original demo version here under lyrics tab).
There's more if you can take it, but I gave up reading women's magazines years ago. It was something about the way the mix of the sugar and the flower and the oil and the treacle meant my brain kept putting on weight while managing to think less.
Of course if I was ethical, I'd try to redeem things by discussing Ms. Aniston's oeuvre as an actress. You know, finding out more by searching the subject, as suggested by Mark Day. But truth to tell, Aniston's been in so many turkeys, I don't have enough spits for the roasting. Go watch Bruce Almighty yourself, or suffer through Derailed, just don't ask me to share.
Sadly after Friends, about the best you can say about Aniston is she does a nice voice over in The Iron Giant. And The Bounty sounds like just another action flick aimed at the female demographic, with a bounty hunter discovering his next target is his ex-wife.
Which leaves us boyfriends, and diets and tears as a topic for conversation.
And Stelio trading off on GQ and Aniston for The Punch. Aargh, Australia's most useless, cheap-skate conversation.
Wash out your mouth Mark Day, turn to the east, bow and say you're sorry a hundred times, and even that act of contrition might not make you clean again ...
Oh and while visiting The Punch, why not drop in on Peter Lewis's informative, low key, discreet column What your sex life says about your voting habits.
No, no, no, he doesn't once mention that voting is roughly equivalent to bestiality. Instead he does a kind of astrological projection of voter personality types:
Labor Voters: More likely to be looking for a good lover, although not as interested in intellectual stimulation or physical attractiveness. If politics is ‘Hollywood for ugly people’, then Labor supporters are straight out of central casting.
Liberal Voters: Value honesty and integrity in a relationship, showing they have a different criteria in choosing their life partner from choosing their government.
Green Voters: Clearly concerned about over-populating the planet, they don’t rate parenting skills and they want someone to make them laugh in the face of the environmental destruction of the planet.
Swinging Voters: They don’t care if you have common interests and they are not interested in laughing. The swingers just want a cashed-up love-god who is pleasing on the eye. Kevin and Malcolm, your battleground awaits!
Is a tar and feathering too good for this tripe? What about a little BDSM action then?
That does it. I'm taking a leaf out of Janet "Dame Slap" Albrechtsen's school for flabby thinkers!
Mark Day, see me in my office now! Six of the best for you my lad! Next time you start talking about Australia's bestest conversation, you should remember the sting of the cane on the palms of your hands ...
(Below: but hey doesn't all this mean we can run our own snap of sweet Jennifer. Is this the revenge of tabloidism as it takes over the world? Hmm, but we've run out of classy covers. What can we run that will appeal to Mark Day? Give him a conversation starter in a conversational way standing around the water cooler contemplating the glorious future of Chairman Rupert charging for content on the intertubes? Oh okay, as you wish ... now sing along with me, in a croaky voice, we're punching like The Punch in Oz's punchiest conversation, and we don't care if we're punch drunk because we drank the punch ...)
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