The Daily Woe

About a week ago, I watched in equal parts abject horror and morbid curiousity as the integrity of The Daily Show was called into question by the folks over at Jezebel. In case you've had your head shoved up a Tampax box for the past few days, the story - though relying on the ever-questionable tactics of interviews with anonymous sources and former employees - basically alleges that Comedy Central's ratings powerhouse, though a supposed bastian of progressivism and liberal ideology, is in fact guilty of the same institutionalized sexism it claims to abhor.

The Daily Show is many things: progressive darling, alleged news source for America's youth, righteous media critique. And it's also a boys' club where women's contributions are often ignored and dismissed.

The opening really says it all, but I would encourage you to keep reading. What's presented here by Irin is pretty damning.

My first Bust story

I've been published in Bust! Well, on their website, at least. Better still, I got to blog about Daria and the release of the series on DVD. Enjoy!

Kill Pill, Vol. I

I really should have posted this yesterday, as May 9 is the actual anniversary of the Pill. As it was, I was out celebrating Mother's Day with my mom. Ironic, you might say, but not really: on the contrary, I rather enjoy that the oral contraceptive's 50th birthday happens to fall on Mother's Day this year. Somehow, it makes the date feel that much more special and worthy of commemoration, in that choosing when and how to plan your family – and entering into the sacred realm of motherhood – more than likely strengthens the relationships one can expect to build with her children.

Hole Lotta Love

I bought tickets to see Hole today. And I'm listening - finally - to Nobody's Daughter.

It's hard to explain the meaning of Hole to me without slipping into pompousself-parody, but I feel compelled to try. Because everybody has that one really great, significant band in their youthful biography; that revolutionary notion of personal affirmation set to a stinging strum of melodic guitar chords. You'll never forget the day you let your Fabian/David Cassidy/98 Degrees memorabilia fall into disrepair as a new, brighter, better object of raw power captures your affections.

This is the lull between identities

...and I'm not sure how comfortable I fit into it.

Yes, the concept is overly pretentious, but it carries the dual standard of being overly accurate, too. What am I to do while one opportunity fizzles away as a plethora of others dangle uncertainly in the ether?

Mo'Nique and me

So last week, and I had the unbelievable pleasure of interviewing Mo'Nique for Real Detroit Weekly, making this the first Oscar winner I've spoken with and written about. It goes without saying (typing?), that I'm ludicrously proud of this story.

News of the OMG variety

Here's two quick bits of exciting Emma's career-related news. First off, three of my stories are featured in this month's (April) issue of Alternative Press. This marks my first appearance in a major, nationwide print publication, so please be sure to pick up a copy and spread the Emma-gasmic love! (Or, you know, just browse through the issue at Kroger and infuriate the staff by pretending like you're in a library, not a store.)

Inked, baby!

Before I forget, this really needs to be shared with the world:

John Edwards is a horrible, horrible human being

The shame of my college sophomore crush is burning like syphilis.

But still, this stuff is juicy. And as drama addict, I can't turn away.

Black on Red

Cross-posted at Punchline Magazine, word!

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