What's the Deal with Eurovision?

Austria's Conchita Wurst

My dear ex-pat; entrepreneur; adventurer friend Adam (a handsome, towering gentle giant I first met in 94 when he played Theseus in my production of Midsummer...) is currently living in London with his equally awesome wife. After wishing him a happy birthday on Facebook, he asked if I was watching the annual Eurovision song contest. I admitted that I was not (I'm not even sure FiOS carries a channel that would air it), but had caught snippets online. He then posted a several clips, including one of Austria's entrant Conchita Wurst and her song "Rise Like a Phoenix." And while I knew who Conchita was (and that she riled up the homophobes running Russia these days), I don't know that I had actually seen her perform. Turns out, "Rise Like a Phoenix" (which - SPOILER ALERT - won today) is a pretty good song. The fact that the contest was won by a sexually ambiguous* performer, makes it all the sweeter.

*Conchita has described herself as "...a gorgeous woman with a beard." I am not one to argue with her. Of course, Conchita is not the first of her kind. Long before anyone had ever heard of Conchita, Bulgari's goateed Azis was making headlines and waves with his gender-bending music videos. 

Adam also suggested I check out Finland's entry, the Finnish Boy Band Softengine and their entry, "Something Better."

He found them a cross between A-HA and Erasure and while I mostly agree, I think we should add a dash of Pet Shop Boys.

Now, I understand talent contests. But a song contest? Each country competing only gets one song? Does it get performed over and over? How do they whittle it down to a winner? I just don't get it. 

More, anon.
Prospero

What's That Spining Sound?

Miley as Hannah Montana

Despite the persistent rumors that he had himself crygonically frozen, I can assure you that Walt Disney was interred at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, California., along with dozens of other Hollywood legends.

And even though I said on Facebook that I wouldn't watch Miley Cyrus' performance at last night's VMA's, the great cry and hue about said performance pretty much left me feeling like I had to watch it and comment further. And so I did. Now comes the further commenting.

All day I've been wondering why I heard spinning sounds from the west. Having watched Cyrus' performance, it has become apparent that whatever remains of Mr. Disney is spinning fast and hard enough to be heard nearly 3000 miles away. The man who once asked Annette Funicello to keep her navel covered in her Beach Blanket movies must be vomiting ectoplasm all over the place.

As I am sure you must know by now, I am hardly a prude.I like sex as much as any other red-blooded American male. And it honestly takes a lot to offend me. Still... when America's Sweetheart turns herself into America's Slut, even Uncle P has to take notice. 

It's not that I am opposed to a young woman growing up and reinventing herself. Nor am I opposed to any young person's sexual awakening. Far from it. Go for it! I certainly wish that at 20 I had had the balls to be myself (though 20 for Uncle P was well into the last century - a very different time). Still, I don't think I would have been nearly as overtly sexual as the former Disney star was last night. If you haven't seen it (and I may be the last American to actually subject myself to it), here's the clip:

WTF?!?!

I don't blame parents who are upset that their children's idol gave such an exploitative performance. I don't even blame Robin Thicke (though he was obviously complicit) for his part in Cyrus' lascivious performance. Cyrus is legally an adult and can do whatever she likes, as long as it's legal and doesn't harm anyone else. Still, I have to wonder how all those tweens and teens who watched Cyrus' wholesome Disney show and expected an equally wholesome performance from their idol (not to mention their parents' reactions) reacted to her rather lascivious performance. Were I a parent of a 12 to 15 year old girl, I imagine I'd be rather incensed, myself.

Here's the thing: Your television's remote (or when I was a kid, dial) has a button that allows you to change the channel if you see something you don't like or don't want your children to see. If you didn't change the channel last night, you have no right to complain about what was aired. If you let your children watch that mess, you have no right to complain about its overtly sexual images. If you let your children play violent video games, you have no right to complain when they act violently in their social play. And if you take your 8 year old to see an "R" rated horror movie, you have no right to complain when said 8 year old wakes you up because he or she had a nightmare.

Change the channel. Hire a sitter. Don't buy 'Street Murdering Pimps' for X-Box. Don't complain when you allow your children to be exposed to things which you find offensive.

Get over it, already.

More, anon.

Prospero