“A man can be destroyed but not defeated.” Ernest Hemingway

In the end, it’s not what feminism stands for, but what it looks and feels like from a man’s perspective.

This includes men who, themselves, claim to be “feminists” because they agree that women should be free and open with their bodies, and pay for dinner and vacations at least 50% of the time.

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I’m not going to run through the basic tenets of feminism because you already know them.

And I’m not going to tell you that men and women shouldn’t have the same rights and privileges.

But I am going to tell you that men and women are radically different, and that when you apply the same standards to both, the fallout is about as hot as the woman in the green shirt [above caption].

Women who drag the torch into middle age are generally divorced and scarred like the hides of Blue Whales.

You might notice that the Botox and Juvederm injections target the same areas because it’s where the scowls leave the deepest wounds.

So who stole Cinderella?

I’ll let you answer this for yourselves.

There once was a kind of Cinderella, but she wasn’t a feminist. If she were, there would have been no fantasies at all, including Santa Claus and The Disney Channel.

Feminism laid out a plan – a future, if you will. It was supposed to be a road map to a better world, a more egalitarian world. But it was launched from the perspective of a single gender warhead, which made it an exclusive club whose tenets were supposed to apply to everyone.

So men – the other reality – responded they way men always do when presented with new opportunities: They exploit them.

No wonder women are so pissed off. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Now you know how cave people survived harsh winters without shotguns and hand grenades.

“I worked hard for what I have. I did. It’s not easy being a prostitute couched as a socialite with an interest in altruism. Hello!”

Please note that I’m not referring to any particular individual, but rather, to entire culture groups that inhabit big cities. The specific cities are irrelevant for those of you who think I’m homing in on Los Angeles.

Somehow the City of Angels became the poster child for a cultural pandemic that insiders know started in Houston.

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Anyone with a modicum of consciousness can tell you that Texas is full of rich middle-aged women who love to talk about themselves and their accomplishments as though they had no connection whatsoever to their billionaire husbands, who they know you want to focus on instead, for obvious reasons.

With couplings like these rivaling the populations of small countries, there’s been intense media focus on Texas, making the Lone Star State the latest epicenter of reality television Hell.

The shows focus on the relationship between big money and narcissistic entitlement, particularly amongst women who manage to acquire it without felony convictions for prostitution.

Examples:

Most Eligible Dallas: It’s soul-less Miami Social all over again, without South Beach as a backdrop. We’ve got young, attractive Big D denizens making their way through the city’s most upscale bars, trying out the most exclusive cocktails and stirring up battles for the camera. Eye candy is what it is; substance is low, y’all.

Texas Women: CMT’s docu-type show chronicles four fierce Fort Worth females who do more than fry up the bacon. “They’re kick ass. They can fight like cats on a Saturday night, then wake up Sunday, apologize, and go to church together,” said Jayson Dinsmore, CMT’s executive VP of development. Giddy-up.

Big Rich Texas: This drab, potentially envy-inducing series on Style Network follows mothers and daughters on the Dallas social scene. It’s like Toddlers and Tiaras, all grown up. Example of how scary BRT is: One young lady won’t go to school until her mom promises her a boob job.

A List Dallas: Logo’s A List franchise travels south to find out what these boy socialites are up to. It’s from the producers of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, so major duomo drama is to be expected. Premieres in October.

Lost in Austin: Still in its planning stages, this show on an undetermined network is looking for talent on the website, lostinaustincasting.com. The ad says that cast members should “rule the bar scene, rope in the hottest of the hot,” and be able to drink to excess.

Good Christian Belles (originally Bitches): More or less Sex and the City goes to Dallas. This ABC show, coming in the fall, could be OK, since Darren Star is behind the scenes and it’s based on Kim Gatlin’s fun, trashy book.

Top Chef: Hungry for more? Season 9 of the unstoppable Bravo food fest, coming this fall, is located in, you guessed it. Expect Padma Lakshmi and new judge Emeril Lagasse in cowboy boots chewing on tremendous steaks.

…and on and on.

So obviously, America’s viewing habits are an accurate reflection of Nostradamus’s predictions.

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We were in Dallas this weekend for one of my photography exhibitions.

And for those of you who have ever had the occasion to interact with the public when you’re the focus of attention, you may notice that many people tend to make the occasion about them.

Rather than discussing the work on display, for example, they spend your time talking about their work, which isn’t [on display].

The idea behind this is to one-up you to death, or until you want to walk out the door with a straight razor.

But you can avoid this mindset if you understand that narcissists are always fighting for supremacy, even if you think you’re just an exhibiting artist there to talk about motivation and process in the context of black and white photography.

Suffice to say, they do the same damn thing to the pizza guy.

“I enjoy photography. I shoot myself, actually. Been there, done that. Got tired of all the shows and agents. Whatever. Then got into fiction writing. Now I have 7 published novels. Three are bestsellers. I also own a marketing company and star in a reality television series about successful Texas women. I like to spend my summer months in Europe writing, but I can’t go anywhere without being approached, so I’ve decided to do my writing in the Caribbean. It’s really annoying. Oh, by the way, this is my husband, Jorge.”

Fortunately, I know that in order to get away with acting like a 6-year-old at age 42, you need funding, which is why the most vocal narcissists are middle age women with porous pre-nups.

I like to use the analogy of Mardi Gras floats. On the outside you have these gigantic bobbing heads made of Paper Mache, which are carried along by durable metal structures that resemble 19th century stagecoaches.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/vicki-larson/why-men-need-to-cheat_b_1170015.html?icid=maing-grid10|htmlws-main-bb|dl8|sec1_lnk3%26pLid%3D124758

Oh boy. Here we go…

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I have a few, very brief comments on this issue.

Suffice to say, we can expect a new narrative on contemporary relationships from Hollywood, so don’t mind me.

Anyway, yes, sex outside of one’s relationship is perfectly fine as long as both parties are on board.

For others, it’s a bleeding of focus and energy from an otherwise intimate, long-term relationship.

In general, though, it’s not a good idea to be married- or coupled – with someone who isn’t into something you can’t live without.

For those of you who get off on deception and love at the same time, understand that at some point you’ll end up facing a future you don’t want to see — like

Elin Nordegren’s future, thanks to “you.”

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Postscript: After catching hell from readers about my “self righteousness” in the context of cheating, I thought I’d ad a personal confession to even things out. I mean come on, Steven Tyler wants broadcast television censored to prevent cursing! as though Tyler hasn’t cursed his ass off and made a fortune doing it?

With this in mind, and in deference to the aforementioned Mr. Tyler who did, in fact, put himself out there on this one, I admit that I have cheated my ass off. I have. In the past, I have. I’m not particularly proud of it, except for a couple of occasions where I deserved an Academy Award for doing it.

Anyway, I cheated because I was either terminally bored, escaping emotional abuse at the hands of a perpetually menstruating psychopath, or looking for a way to get out of something I was too chicken shit to end myself – at least directly.

So that’s it.

The end.

We have to be reminded periodically that “celebrities” are also human beings who happened to choose entertainment over cashiering.

This is one reason they’re celebrities.

In the business of entertainment, if you’re not a celebrity you’re like the inventory manager at a Home Depot: You work there, but still require a name tag.

See the analogy?

If you can get past this first step, you’re well on your way to getting over the fact that you aren’t a panelist on American Idol.

With this in mind, some people are born into celebrity families, which no one understands.

Just let it go or see a therapist something.

Many of these people decide to carry on the family tradition of acting, which means that if their father is Donald Sutherland they usually get to star in their own television show.

If your father was the best friend of a bank president, you could probably get a job as a teller.

See the correlation?

Don’t ask me how someone becomes the son of Donald Sutherland or Martin Sheen or some other celebrity, because then we get into the whole “Why am I me?” thing.

Anyway, there are also those who decided to take their shot at acting after seeing a movie they liked. They just got on a plane or drove or hitchhiked to Los Angeles, got an agent, and started making the rounds. They didn’t stay in Pittsburgh or wherever wondering why they weren’t famous. They put everything on the line for something that’s about as likely as a comet strike.

But that’s what it takes.

Of course, there are many things that go into “who makes it,” not to mention who gets noticed in a line of thousands at 3 o’clock in the morning.

For the person with no insider advantages, it’s being at the right place in line at the right time with the right look for the right role, coupled with an ability to perform convincingly in front of a camera at or below budget. Period.

If you happen to be extraordinarily good looking, you might also consider sleeping with the right people who know that good looks often pull the focus off of whatever actual talent is missing, particularly with enough special effects.

So that’s it.

It’s not the best career choice, but neither was throwing everything on the line to play lead guitar for Guns and Roses, until they became famous, in which case it was a good career choice.

Most people are not willing to drop out of “normal” to live in a dump off Sunset Boulevard with a bunch of heroine-addicts.

And believe me, I get it. But on some level, you have to respect their commitment to blind faith.

You also have child prodigies like Harry Connick, Jr., who made it through extraordinarily talent at a very young age. It didn’t hurt that he was a handsome kid with a passion for performing in front of large audiences, either.

Hillary Swank’s saga was unusual in that she and her mother lived out of the back seat of a car until someone in the industry took notice of her acting ability. It bears mentioning that the situation was a good “hook,” which works well in a city that can’t survive without them.

Of course, you can complain all you want about the fact that you weren’t born rich and famous, like Paris Hilton.

It’s just one of those things no one understands, but in her case, wishes would just go away.

These and other questions finally answered as we enter 2012 with a Big Bang…or whatever metaphor suits you.

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As we enter 2012 many people find themselves wondering why they’re not celebrities like everyone else?

See, if everyone else weren’t a famous celebrity they wouldn’t wonder this. But because they are, they do.

Taking this a step further, people wonder why – and how – children are “randomly” chosen by people like Angelina Jolie to become a part of celebrity family?

Or why Tori Spelling’s father is one of the most famous movie producers in the world, while theirs is an auto mechanic at a Shell Station in Burbank?

How did all of this happen?

Scientists are always trying to explain the nature of consciousness, but it never makes sense, even if we have no idea what they’re talking about.

So we make it up.

Here’s the most popular theory:

People like Tori spelling are chosen, which makes them special in an inexplicable sort of way, and thus, better than everyone else.

If it were just random coincidence, there would be no magic in it. People have to believe there’s more to the process of how some people get to be famous, in her case, by default.

So what exactly does “THEY” mean?

It means someone’s in one body while you’re in another.

But how did they get into that particular body?

Is there a way of throwing them out and then possessing it yourself?

Demons have been doing this for centuries, but with mixed results.

And while the argument could be made that you could work your way to the top of something, like a reality television show, you still don’t get to choose your parents.

So who does?

What I’m getting at is the possibility that we all have souls.

Yoga people can explain this better than I can. But as I see it, they’re the raw “us” in another form awaiting assignment to a particular body, which someone else chooses.

On what grounds the choice is made is beyond me, not to mention who is responsible for the choosing.

Oh boy.

So now we’re talking about some form of consciousness before biology, which is in line with people who believe in ghosts, even if the process is backwards.

It’s still a “you” wandering around outside a body, which people from places like New Orleans learn to live with.

Nonetheless, if it is true that someone chooses where we go, you now know why Tori Spelling is not her goat.

Of course, it still leaves open the question of why this particular goat was chosen by Ms. Spelling to enjoy the benefits of her famous father who was declared the highest earning dead celebrity in 2009?

I wonder how many people would choose to possess the body of her goat rather than the body of a gas station attendant?

I don’t even want to think about it.

Relationships are often like drugs, sensual and comforting, but with their own set of side-effects and contraindications.

Needless to say, the Grail constitutes a contraindication.

I have to keep reminding myself that what I spent the first half of my career doing is entirely different from what I do now — in spite of the fact that it’s identical.

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I launched my commercial photography career in reaction to the low wages of the acting industry’s “extras” work, which is analogous to working in the mailroom at Microsoft.

It’s the place where everyone starts in the absence of the right last name.

But I wasn’t prepared to blow my entire life on a dream I would in all probability, never realize.

I have friends who stuck with it, are still sticking with it, in spite of the fact that they’re still struck in it; arguably no closer to the top than they were the day they started.

But most of them are fine with this because they love acting and can’t imagine themselves doing anything else, even if they rarely do it.

Of course, I also have famous friends who got lucky before it was too late to turn back, which is why people who can’t afford health insurance spend two hundred dollars a month on the Lotto.

But I was never a slave to blind fantasy. I think fantasy is fine when you can afford it, which is why I took the whore route.

In commercial photography, I could snap a head shot in 15 minutes and get paid for it the moment I handed over the negatives. And since all actors needed photographs of themselves, I got paid a lot. Now this made sense.

I was now in the driver’s seat, surrounded by a world of opportunity, which suits me to this day.

Only now, it’s back to then, as I find myself at another crossroads.

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I had a successful career, which enabled me to retire at a relatively early age. But like most driven people, I was accustomed to lots of activity, and yes, financial success.

So here I was at middle age, going to the gym, eating out, dating, traveling, whatever…until I started sinking. I’d read articles about things other photographers were doing and wonder why I wasn’t still out there. And eventually, it got to me.

So I started shooting fine art photographs, while continuing to write –- usually conjoining the two.

But it didn’t take long for me to realize that fine art and money were not synonymous. No longer were the days when I could issue a colossal invoice for a day’s work and actually get a check for it.

But I was doing this for the ART, right? Wasn’t that what this was all about? ART?

Okay, so now we were back to the acting problem. Do I love photography enough to accept the fact that money is not the end game … that it’s about the creation itself?

No. I don’t love it that much.

And it’s not because I don’t love photography. I just love money more, and I freely admit it.

So I’m a commercial whore.

If fine art were to deliver the same financial results, I would declare myself a devoted artist. But because fine art photography costs far more than it yields – no matter how successful I may be – I limit my exposure to it.

A fine art photograph taken by Annie Leibovitz recently auctioned for $10,600. 00.

So what?

It didn’t auction for $100,000 or $1,000,000.

And the truth of the matter is any gallery exhibit staged and financed entirely by Ms. Leibovitz would yield a break even at best. That’s the way it is and why she doesn’t retire. I don’t blame her.

So she’s a whore, too.

At the end of the day, I’ve had to accept the fact that fine art is not as much a career as it is a psychiatric disability.

And while some people just love beating dead horses, I can afford a therapist, which far more interesting for people who demand something for their efforts.

By my estimate, there are approximately 60 million sexually oriented businesses in the Greater Houston Area, or 2 per city block.

I’m kidding, of course, but the actual number is hard to nail down because it fluctuates with the number of vice raids conducted on any given day, which brings me to the point of this discussion:

Why are vice raids conducted on sexually oriented businesses in the first place?

Is there not an inherent contradiction in this somewhere?

If a city or municipality grants licenses to operate SOB’s, why then does it conduct arrests for the very activities they know the businesses encourage and/or promote?

Who the hell isn’t going to have sex – or be inclined to do so – in an environment designed specifically to elicit a sexual response?

Am I insane?

Is this just a figment of my imagination?

Are people actually arrested for engaging in sexual activity in sexually oriented businesses?

These are freaking consenting adults acting out in private enterprises!

What the hell am I missing here?

I think the damn places should be declared social services and be given some sort of honorary title or something.

Can you imagine society without such outlets for the sexually frustrated?

I don’t even want to think about it, frankly.

If a couple visits an adult theater, does anyone expect them to conduct themselves they way they do when visiting a bank for a home loan?

People visit adult theaters to have sex. People visit topless clubs to have sex. People visit Thai massage parlors to have sex. People visit swingers clubs to have sex.

How difficult is this to grasp?

I understand the need to place boundaries on sexual activity in public places, like parks, playgrounds and shopping malls. But there is a difference between the Apple Store and an adult theater.

I once read that the rationale behind such raids was public safety. More specifically, protecting society from the spread of STD’s.

If this is true – and I have little doubt that it is – then why allow them to exist in the first place? Doing so sets up a cat-and-mouse game bordering on sexual harassment.

On our way back from New Orleans, we passed so many adult-related billboards we lost count. There were more of them than Wendy’s, McDonald’s and Jack in the Box combined.

It’s like dangling raw chicken in open waters, and municipal governments know it. They get to tax the establishments and arrest the patrons to let society at large know they’re doing their jobs to protect them from unseemly behavior. But they also know that the activities will continue as long as the raids aren’t too frequent, which is why they whole thing borders on entrapment.

And on the issue of STD’s and public safety, I can absolutely, positively assure you that the diseases are coming home – with or without the adult businesses – as long as people don’t use protection.

So there goes that argument.

I think we should make all of these businesses – including prostitution – 100% legal. Then we should mandate that they operate in “Red Light Districts,” away from schools and places of worship.

The cities could then collect the taxes, keep the citizenry happy and find better uses for their vice cops, like child prostitution, rape and narcotics.

I mean is it really worth ruining someone’s reputation over a hand job in the back of a topless club?

Gimme a break.

To all of you in therapy, have a very Merry Xmas!

To all of you who should be, have a Xanax on me!

xoxo,

J

For those of you of a certain age still searching for THE ONE, it bears mentioning that you eventually reach a point in life where you should probably find something else to think about.

Go ahead and think about winning the lottery if you want. As long as you keep throwing money at the cashier, you do, in fact, have a shot.

But knock it off with the expectations of finding something remotely resembling the Grail burned into your heads unless you’re willing to pay for it.

Most guys get a timeshare in a prostitute.

The rest settle for the age-relevant companion and matching Life-Alert tags.

It just gets to a point of diminishing returns where fantasy and age are concerned.

See, women are better at math than you may think.

They run the numbers, and when you start coming up short, they disappear.

And the problem is you can’t mitigate the returns.

You’re where you are in life…and that’s it.

The problem is that most men hang onto their fantasies until they drag them to the bottom of a river, which often happens. Others drink themselves to death in wine bars near college campuses.

The delusions are palpable.

Women are better at self-assessment.

And while many try to maintain relevance at the expense of everyone around them, their gender is generally more accepting of life’s immutable tenets.

Men tend to live with the default fantasy that serendipity will somehow produce a woman half their age who will see something in them they can’t see in themselves, and that the ensuing bills are simply the price of love.

But the truth of the matter is that the bills are, in fact, the price of love.

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Delusion from Wiki:

Although non-specific concepts of madness have been around for several thousand years, the psychiatrist and philosopher Karl Jaspers was the first to define the three main criteria for a belief to be considered delusional in his 1913 book General Psychopathology.These criteria are:

•    certainty (held with absolute conviction)
•    incorrigibility (not changeable by compelling counterargument or proof to the contrary)
•    impossibility or falsity of content (implausible, bizarre or patently untrue)

Furthermore, when a false belief involves a value judgment, it is only considered as a delusion if it is so extreme that it cannot be or ever can be proven true (example: a man claims that he flew into the sun and flew back home. This would be considered a delusion).