Musing

I think I watch too much TV, I'd put music on while in the craft room but my decent cds are at work and I can never remember to bring them home. So on goes the Tv and I find myself watching anything that isn't on the three major networks. The other night I watched something about little girl beauty pagents but this one was a bit different. Little daughters and their mothers would be competing against each other for the title of Royal Supreme Whatever of the whole wide world. Or something like that. The show focused on three mothers and their daughters and what a trio of doozies they were. There was the white woman with her long gray hair whose talent was twiring a baton. Now WW was a biggish woman and being big myself I hold no prejudice about size HOWEVER biggish women should not twirl batons while dressed in spangly spandex AND have an unspandexed middle and so all the spandexed flab from bottom and top ooshes out in the middle like the ice cream in a melting ice cream sandwich. That was only topped when she appeared on stage in a bathing suit. Now I wiggle and jiggle myself and wouldn't dream of prancing about on stage with so much white flesh exposed that it blinded the judges. Then there was the African American mother whose eyes seemed to be permenetly stuck in the wide open surprised mode. Either that or she had no eyelids. She wasn't bad looking but her constant critcisim of her daughter made me want to reach into the TV and throttle her. The last mother daughter were latina. Mom was beautiful but daughter looked like every other two year old Latina kid I've ever seen. She was adorable but strong minded and did what she wanted to do no matter how much gay daddy tried to coax her into doing something else. Ok now someone will call me a homophobe. I'm not. But this big mincing man MADE his wife and duahgers's costumes, did their hair and makeup and had that prissy voice that you hear on flagrantly gay guys on TV. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had gotten up there AND pranced around. Which brings me to America's Next Top Model or something like that where one contestant was worried that while in a shot at the beach the water would dissolve the tape holding her Mr Winkie in place. Yep... she was a he.

Shees.

Then there's that really weird religious family with the continually pregnant mom and 18 or 19 or 20 kids all whose names begin with J and who claim dancing is a sin.

Not to mention Hitler and the Occult. Is the Shroud of Turin real and the Ovation TV program about the deaf down's syndrome woman who wraps things with strings and fibers and stuff and it's called art. Outsider art which is simply art done for yourself and not for critics or to sell. So now I can call myself an outside artist. It's nice to know where I fit. Of course that means I passed on the reality cow boy show, the monday night sitcoms and Star Trek re runs, not to mention the 80 billionth time that particular law and order episode was on. I just gotta remember those cds tomorrow.

Outside Artist signing off..



Oh and while watching ovation TV I got inspired creatively and did three small collages and started wokring on figures made of stained class pieces with model magic heads. I hav GOT to learn how to take a decent pic.