Its classy...thats what I like about it

Hi, my name is Ashley Alexandra Dupre. I am 22 years old. I love to travel and play in the outdoors. Other hobbies include showing my snatch in public and dethroning the Governor of New York.

The most famous call girl in America has a lot to be proud of. After all, she netted top dollar for her...ahem...services and this is bound to net her 15 minutes of fame. But her 15 minutes, possibly like Spitzer himself, may have come too early. Bah-Zing.

CNN reported this week that Joe Francis, founder of the Girls Gone Wild franchise offered Dupre $1 million to pose for a spread and join the Girls Gone Wild party bus. "We actually had been dealing with her rep," he said. "Our [offer] was the real deal. We just never made the connection."



The connection he refers to is the fact that Dupre had already been in Girls Gone Wild. It seems the young co-ed had travelled to Miami to celebrate her 18th birthday when she got in an argument with a friend and drunkenly left her hotel to find some fun. She stumbled upon the Girls Gone Wild bus and, after filming 7 full length films chock full of girl-on-girl and full frontal, she signed a full legal release.

"It'll save me a million bucks," Francis said Tuesday. "It's kind of like finding a winning lottery ticket in the cushions of your couch."

Eliot Spitzer has since resigned and has his love of hookers like Dupre to thank for it. I can't help but think if Spitzer would have refused to do the typical fake politico apology alongside his sad-looking wife, choosing instead to lift up his shirt while techno music played in the background, maybe he would have million dollar offers flying at him. Don't fight it, Spitz, embrace!



Hustler publisher Larry Flynt offered Dupre the same amount as Francis but was not optimistic that she would take it, considering he sees a bright future ahead for this crazy slutbag.

"She is no doubt going to do a book. There will probably be a movie," he said. "I think she is going to have so many offers coming in that it will probably be wishful thinking just to get in the door."

Could a Mexican Emo witch hunt lead to the next Halocaust?

Stay with me. This week, LA Weekly blogger Daniel Hernandez reported on a wave of mob violence targeting Emo kids. I'm thinking white belts covered in blood, toughguy crazies slashing throats with a splintered Hawthorn Heights CD, pink highlights ripped from the scalps of rock n' roll's most hilarious subculture since glam.

Now you might think that this is just a culture clash between liberal, androgynous fashion and traditional Mexican values. But certain intellectuals believe this clash could lead to something much more dangerous.

It all started Queretaro, a small state 160 miles northwest of Mexico City. According to the reputable newspaper La Jornada, Student music fans identifying themselves as punks or darks had taken to online message boards, mocking the emo subculture and challenging the authenticity of the genre. The anamosity came to a head when the punks crashed a gathering of emo students at Queretaro's capitol city center square.



When the dust cleared, the Mexican department of Traffic and Municipal Guard had arrested 22 minors and 6 adults in a standoff that lasted over 22 hours. A young emo couple was severly beaten by a group of punk students. The punks will be charged with assault in criminal court. The mayor of Queretaro, Manuel Gonzalez Valley, expressed regret that nothing the government did served to fix the problem. " The only thing we did this was to arrest the young and ready. But the discrimination remains."

He was more right than he knew. In just 12 days, riots and beatings had broken out in cities across Mexico, from the booze-soaked wonderland of Tijuana to the massive Mexico City. A Mexican VJ went on a televised diatribe, lambasting emo culture, calling it "fucking bullshit." Similar incidents have recently been reported in Chile, where the emo kids are called PokEMOnes. All because some punks were not big on skinny-fit jeans and Aiden CD's. But could it be bigger than that?





Ignacio Pineda is the coordinator of the Cultural Forum Alicia, a center for youth culture. Pineda believes that the violence may be part of a government conspiracy.

" What I see is a very conservative connotation. The deliberate aim is to divide, because [these kids] can offer prospects for the future." Pineda believes that this unilateral devision has ominous implications.

"Violence among various youth groups is not new, it has always existed, but now it has become massive. This campaign is dangerous and can grow and [turn] against blacks, gays, or women," says Pineda.

Emo culture and the effete, dramatic personalities that come with it are not new to the hispanic community. In August 2002, rock journalist Chuck Klosterman wrote an article for SPIN magazine about a Smiths convention he attended in Los Angeles. Upon arriving at Hollywood's Palace Theatre for the sixth annual Smiths/Morrissey convention, Klosterman realized that the overwhelming majority of hardcore Smiths fans are Latino.

"He speaks to us man," one fan told Klosterman. "Where was the one place Morrissey said he was always dying to tour? It was Mexico man, its where his heart is." This East L.A. 20-year-old is described as being carved out of marble, wore a sleeveless flanel shirt and confessed to listening to "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" and "crying like a little bitch."



The fans Klosterman interviewd espoused several theories as to the connection between effeminate, decidedly asexual, decidedly British emo music and Latin American people. Some believe that the rockabilly costumes and pompadour hairstyle Morrissey often wore are a reflection of Latin "greaser" culture. Some believe it is Morrissey's background as an Irish immigrant. His family moved to England where it is believed they were quite alienated from mainstream culture. This, as the theory goes, mirrors the Latino experience in America. But most people interviewed attribute the passion and emotion in the lyrics and style to the passion often attributed to Latin Americans.

But the most interesting part about Klosterman's piece as it relates to the current anti-emo violence across Mexico is the denial of Morrissey's possible sexual orientation.

"The most confusing aspect of Neo-Moz culture is the fact that just about everyone who has ever seen or heard Morrissey assumes he is gay--except for these Latino kids."

One fan outlines the phenomenon specifically, saying "there is a homophobic vibe amongst many Latin Americans who say "we like him so he can't be gay."

Klosterman goes on:

"Though it is understandable how a culture that invented the term machismo might be uncomfortable lionizing a gay icon, its ironic that Morrissey has now been adopted by two diametrically opposed subcultures. Fifteen years ago, closeted gay teens loved Morrissey because they thought he shared their secret; today future Marines try to ignore the fact that their hero might find them foxy."

So it is not without evidence that Mexican intellectuals suggest that perhaps these riots and beatings come from a cultural conservatism, a fear of difference, an adherence to traditional values. But the anger has to come from somewhere.

Édgar Morin, academic director of Acatlan Studies of the National Autonomous University of Mexico agrees with Pineda that the violence is suggestive of more serious problems.



"In Latin America, there are nearly 30 million young people who have no opportunity to study or work and logically, most believing that survival equals crime, tilts the scale of narcotics, piracy or smuggling. If the State does not begin to solve the problems of employment and education, there will be more conflict," Morin said.



In several interviews conducted by La Jornada, emo teens confessed being depressed, deadpan and some even displayed suicidal tendencies. But the punks claim this is all an act. "It bothers me that do not have their own identity, that it stolen from other tribes," a metalhead student named Diego complained. "Its a hybrid. According to them, they hate society but we always see them happy and aware of what they are doing."

Diego accuses emo kids of being superficial, consumerist, and depressive and states that they are not about music or culture but strictly about making a fashion statement.

"The Mexican people are obsessed with appearance," Morin states. "In such a difficult world, being emotional is not taken well. Only the strong survive."

Intervention Intervention

My name is John. J-O-H-N.

I am a journalist. I live in suburban Philadelphia. I enjoy playing guitar, watching sports and going to concerts. You might look at my life and think "this kid has it all." But the truth is...

I'm addicted to Intervention.


It started as something to watch on OnDemand when there was nothing else on. But soon the tears and confessions of people I don't know going through real problems and, in most cases, being completely in denial of how much pain they are causing, became my addiction.

What would possess the suits at A&E to create a show like this? What would possess anyone to go on it and air their personal, embarrassing problems on national television? And what would possess normal, well-meaning viewers to watch it?

The Germans call it Schadenfreude, or taking pleasure in the pain of others. The ancient Greeks all the way through to the plays of Shakespeare, showed comedy as tragedy, that audiences enjoy the humiliation, degradation and pain of others so much that it becomes entertainment.


Intervention Parody

Perhaps the suits were sold on the shiny showwbiz of this addiction drama. After all, some of the addicts were connected to the music business. Former Days Of The New frontman Travis Meeks was treated for meth addiction. Former Three Dog Night frontman Chuck Negron watched his son Chuckie suffer through an addiction to heroin. And who could forget Tim, a producer, musician and talent promoter who ended up abusing her girlfriend's father and crying in a drainpipe while high on crack.


Travis Meeks on Intervention

Maybe it was the characters. It is clear that the Interventionists have several features of beloved TV characters: funny names, catch phrases. We know that Jeff Van Vonderen will eventually say "I see a lot of people who love you but they feel like they are losing you and they wanna fight to get you back. This is just inviting you to join that fight. So they are gonna say what they have to say and then you are gonna say what you have to say and then we're done." He is the tough guy, he breaks it down really simply. He is a straight shooter. We know Candy Finnigan will wear a scarf and too much makeup and will be in more tears than the family by the end. She is the mother. She has the heartfelt words. She thinks of the children. And then we have Ken Seally. He is the mysterious guy. He has mentioned time and again that he is a former addict, that he has skeletons in his closet. He seems soft and sensitive but when addicts try to leave, he has gotten hands on in the past. He is the enigma of the bunch.



But while dramatic, theatrical elements do exist, there is a big difference between Intervention and, say, The Bachelor, one of the elder statesmen in the reality TV genre, starting its twelfth season this week. Where most reality shows are loaded down with subtext, crafty editing, music and writers--these shows have writers--to make the reality more real. But it doesn't get more authentic, more gut-wrenching and more real than the hard light of day shining on people in the grip of drug addiction.


Because this is truly reality TV, you are not promised that B12 shot of redemption. The truth is that many addicts never recover. So anyone who says that they are watching for the sunny days and plucky acoustic music at the end are probably not real fans.

And anyone interested in therepy won't get much out of this either. We don't see the recovery. So really, it is only the downfall, the bottoming out. Similar to the Leif Garrett Behind The Music.

The only way you can survive watching this show week after week is if you are in it for observation, as some sort of sociological experiment. We all know someone who has struggled with drugs in some way but we never see how they combine their use (or abuse) of substances with their family life, with their relationships with friends and work. These things are private, just for the addict to struggle with and deal with. But Intervention allows complete access to these realities, to see how lies and denial and long-standing pain weighs on the ones we love.

So as I found myself week after week in front of the TV compulsively watching episode after harrowing episode. I get almost immunized to the crying, the betrayal and the anger. I develop a tolerance. I find myself thinking about getting more Intervention, downloading episodes from the internet, watching free clips on the A&E website. One is too many, 1000 is never enough.

And last week, when my brother caught me downloading the latest episode at 3am, he said enough is enough. I was on my way to a hotel for what I thought was my final interview. But all my friends and family were there. They read their letters and then they cried. Then I cried. But I didn't stay to hear their bottom lines. Because this show is great. And if you think I have a problem, then you are probably a fan of the Bachelor.

On Being Presidential

Today, I decided who I am going to vote for.



As the primaries have churned along and the candidates have pandered and preached, I had been on the fence. And now that I have chosen, it disappoints me that, when it came down to it, it had nothing to do with policy.
Barack Obama took to the stage at Philadelphia's Constitution Center this morning to defend his relationship with Reverend Jeremiah Wright and The Trinity Unity Church of Christ and I missed the beginning. (Full text of the speech can be read here).
But as I overheard the strains of his voice coming from the next room, my ears immediately perked up, as if my auditory cavities were subconsciously telling me "listen up, stupid! someone important is talking."
When the voice of a sitting president is heard, it is natural to have a reaction. After all, the man's words matter so much to our everyday lives and the airwaves are so saturated with it all the time that your ears become trained.
But this is the first time I have ever had this reaction with someone on a campaign. Obama's calm, stately voice made me believe I was already listening to a great world leader. And he hasn't even been elected yet.
The whole experience left me a touch nostalgic for a time long ago when flannel shirts were all the rage and our Lothario president was turning the Oval Office into swingers night at the Airport Ramada. But when he wasn't jamming it down the throat of interns, Clinton had quite the silver toungue. They didn't call him slick Willy for nothing. He could sell snow to the eskimos and make them believe it was for the good of the nation. But most importantly, when he spoke, America listened. America collectively perked up their ears and stopped what they were doing. He had the charisma and likability of a talk show host.
When Clinton was in office, I took these qualities for granted. I thought a bit of public speaking ability and charisma and charm came with the territory for any elected official.

And then we elected and re-elected George W. Bush.



A man who can't string ten words together without saying Nu-cue-ler. A man who has publicly mispronounced entire continents. I will never forget watching Dunce-Cap DubYah stumble through a speech to the U.N. asking for funding assistance for a war they tacitly forbade him from waging. When he opens his mouth on a world stage, I feel the room get stupider. And I am embarrassed to have him as my representative. It is a feeling comparable to hearing Pat Robertson speak for the opinions of all Christians by saying Katrina was a punishment for homosexuality. Even with his problems and his missteps, Clinton never embarassed me as an American. Hell, most other westernized nations already think we are a bunch of prudes anyway. If anything, he made us look cooler.
But even with all those qualities, Clinton's whole persona had kind of a comedy to it, a used-car-salesman sleaze that gave his words a taint, like a beautifully crafted lie. And that was when he was telling the truth.
Obama is no comedian. He has a drama, a heft to his orations that make you want to swallow everything he feeds you whole. And so far, the media has been hard pressed to find reasons we shouldn't.
This speech was a turning point for me and, I'm sure, for many others who are not sure who to vote for in this election. No longer can the media paint him as a man who has not been vetted. Even as the Clinton campaign tries their damnedest to derail him (pictures of him in a turban, talk of his pastor, Reverend Wright), the Obamanator stays stoic, tough and yet graceful.



Lincoln never could have amassed the Union army without this ability. Martin Luther King never could have convinced women to walk instead of taking the bus if he wasn't able to get people to shut up and listen. In an age where we are constantly saturated with schemes and plans and deals, hearing a politician speak can often sound like an infomercial. But when Obama talks, I listen. And that is no small thing.