Archive for the ‘crappola a la mode’ Category

Psycho Bunny thought it was more appropriate for 2016.

Introducing the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week. The holiday edition.


Psycho Bunny does a holiday dumpster fire instead of a Yule log. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo. Dec. 2016. 

Hope everyone had a good holiday season so far. Thanks to the many people who supported me and my comics, illustrations and other work this year.

The usual plugs: Don’t forget to hit “like” for both Facebook pages. There’s one for Psycho Bunny Comix and one for my other illustration work WitchesBrewPress. Psycho Bunny is also on Twitter. Soon I’ll revamp my website for an updated shop menu. The shop will be updated, to make ordering comics easier. Stay tuned.

Happy holidays whatever you celebrate.

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Not since the days of Pacman has a game have such impact. Apparently downloads of the Pokemon Go app has surpassed even Twitter.

I’m on the fence in regards to this game. On one hand it’s fun. On the other hand, it’s definitely Orwellian. The last thing we need is a soul sucking app. Another perceptive is that it’s making people get up, and get out of the house, despite the blistering summer heat. It’s a very physical game. A form of low-fi exercising, if you care about that sort of thing. As you look on your screen for a Pokemon to catch, you discover little tiny details about your surroundings. For example, in my own neighborhood, I wasn’t even aware about some fake owl attached to a building on my block. That fake owl just happens to be a Pokemon stop.

Is it privacy invading? Of course it is. It’s like every other tool in life. It’s how you use it that makes the difference. I wouldn’t worry about this game too much. This trend will probably burn itself out. By next summer, we will have already moved on to the next trend. At least it wasn’t that stupid ice bucket challenge from two summers ago.

I was extremely cynical about Pokemon Go at first. Blending fantasy with reality had curiosity getting the best of me. Of course, now that I’m excelling at this game, half the time the servers are down.

This game comes out at a crucial time in American history. So why are we allowing ourselves to be distracted by cute little pocket monsters?

Better than sitting in misery, I suppose. Yes, there’s the TTIP, the U.S. Presidential race, and every other tragedy that’s been happening since Bowie died ten days into 2016. Actually, it really started when Lemmy died a few days before New Year’s Eve. That was definitely a sign of things to come, then Prince sealed the deal. (Alan Vega died most recently). Look. We knew the world sucked already. For those who sit in their cruddy apartments alone bickering about how “I don’t follow pop culture, I have better things to do…” In response there’s two words: Sturgeon’s Law. Politics and religion cannot bring people together, but perhaps this game will. It all depends on your perceptive.

This video represents Summer 2016. Video by Daquan Wiltshire. I can relate, especially people used to get on my case for watching vintage cartoons.

Why would one want to live in a world of constant misery, being haunted by ghosts of your past for example, and trying to bring down everyone around you. Personally, I appreciate the little whimsical things in life.

Enough of this haphazard editorial. Here’s the Psycho Bunny pic of the week.Of course, don’t forget to order any comics from my website, or from my RedBubble shop, or my two Facebook pages, one for Psycho Bunny, and one for WitchesBrewPress.

Till next time folks.



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Yeah, like I want to celebrate a day where supposedly Pagans were driven out, and then get obnoxiously drunk. This Irish man had the right idea:


Anyway, without further ado, here’s Psycho Bunny. He hates St. Patty’s, ’cause it interrupts his regularly scheduled boozing. He doesn’t have time to deal with amateurs.


Psycho Bunny hating on Saint Patrick’s Day. Based on the comic by Michele Witchipoo. March 2016.


And remember folks. You can always order your own copy of Psycho Bunny through this website: http://www.witchesbrewpress.com/

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Over the weekend at The Cobra Club, my friend Dawn suggested checking out the 16th Annual Mr. L.E.S. Pageant. With that she thought our mutual friend Chad would be perfect for the contest.

So yesterday, I texted Dawn about whether or not Chad was still interested in doing the pageant. Particularly since yesterday’s temperatures were going down to a freezing nine degrees. A few more texts between us three, and suddenly plans were in place. Chad threw on my black sequined tank top and black mini-skirt. Dawn went to a local 99 cents store to grab cheap thigh high stockings. Chad’s contribution, besides the insanity, was a thong fashioned out of a belly dancing belt. I had brought along my silver star platform shoes purchased back in the late ’90s, but unfortunately the heels were too small for Chad’s feet. Since we had to get to the church on time, I applied Chad’s makeup while riding the subway to Brooklyn.

'Sparkles' riding the subway to the 16th Annual L.E.S. Pageant.  Taken Mon. Feb. 23rd, 2015.

‘Sparkles’ riding the subway to the 16th Annual L.E.S. Pageant. Taken Mon. Feb. 23rd, 2015.

Wait…Brooklyn you ask? But doesn’t L.E.S. mean the Lower East Side, as in the borough of Manhattan? Technically yes. What happened was, the event was originally slated for Jan. 31st over at the Cakeshop, but due to certain difficulties, it ended up rescheduled and moved to the Lucky 13 bar in Gowanus, Brooklyn. That’s how sterile Manhattan has become. In fact, that’s seems to be the case all over NYC, thanks to the plague of hyper-gentrification.

Anyway, we finally arrived at on location. Whether or not last year’s winner, Matthew Silver was there, we don’t know since we were late. Luckily we managed to get Chad on stage, and he was the last contestant to strut his stuff.

Lucky 13 was packed full of drunken revelry. The rowdy audience heckled in between chants of “BALLS!”

This year’s winner of the Mr. L.E.S. title was Claude Debris. He was some skinny guy with a tight hounds-tooth suit and a French accent who calls his mother every week, like a good son should. He even made sure computer towers were attached to his testicles.


The rest of the winners were:

Mr. Congeniality – Brer Brian

Mr. GowANUS – Johnny Bizarre

Mr. Tribeca – Fritz Donnelly

On stage at the 16th Annual Mr. L.E.S. Pageant. Taken Feb. 23rd, 2015 by Michele Witchipoo.

On stage at the 16th Annual Mr. L.E.S. Pageant. Hosted by Rev. Jen. Taken Feb. 23rd, 2015 by Michele Witchipoo.

It was a great night. The only fall-out was I got really sick of seeing penis everywhere. It did inspire this sketch featuring my old (self-published) comic book character, Psycho Bunny. So I created this:

Introducing male stripper Psycho Bunny! Drawn by Michele Witchipoo.

Introducing male stripper Psycho Bunny! Drawn by Michele Witchipoo.

Online post-coverage of the night’s events:


Update: Forgot to mention that the hostess was NYC’s own Rev. Jen.

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Some things you can always count on living in NYC. There’s bound at least one of these on your block: a bodega, Chinese takeout, a laundromat, or corner deli. On every other block you’ll spot a pizzeria, either a Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks, a liquor store, a bar or Optimo newsstand. Actually there’s less pizzerias now. They’re slowly being replaced by 7-11s, but that depends on where you live. Then there’s your typical 99 cents store.

I’m going to talk about the 99 cent stores. They’ve been popping around more since 1990. In fact, these stores are nationwide. With the economy in the tanker, they’re not going anywhere anytime soon. They’re just one step up from your local thrift store, only the merchandise is new.

True, most of the stuff sold is mostly useless junk. The other mishap is getting the kind of crap that breaks after using them for two seconds. It’s useful for getting a roll of toilet paper for 69 cents. Sometimes you’ll be surprised what you’ll find.

Upon my discoveries when picking up a nameless brand of kitchen wipes, I stumbled upon these little ditties. And I’m not talking about the bootleg merchandise from China, with all their misspelled words and awkward use of English grammar. Just remember; all you need is just a few bucks plus a twisted sense of humor.

Have a...day.  Plastic drinking cup found at local 99 cents store. Queens, NYC May 2013. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Have a…day.
Plastic drinking cup found at local 99 cents store. Queens, NYC May 2013. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Cheap earring pack discovery from a local 99 cents store. Peace. Love. Snowflakes. Bootleg Hello Kitty, SpongeBob and Nazi swastika. may 2013.

Cheap earring pack discovery from a local 99 cents store. Peace. Love. Snowflakes. Bootleg Hello Kitty, SpongeBob and Nazi swastika. May 2013.

The above photo is interesting. Again I went in just to get some paper goods. Then I saw this earring pack. Among the designs of peace, love, flowers, snowflakes, bootleg Hello Kitty and SpongeBob was the swastika. Not the original Buddhist or Hindu origin, but the Nazi kind. So I brought this up to the counter and asked the cashier about this. Apparently she had never heard of the word Nazi, nevermind knowing what it means. She asked me to explain. As I tried to give a brief history lesson, the expression on the woman’s face looked puzzled. Yeah, it was going to get complicated. I just simply took the yellow post it note she gave me, and wrote the word down so she could Google it later. A week later in that same store, this earring pack was nowhere to be found.

Fake embroidery anyone? Chintzy cat coaster found in a 99 cents store. May 2013. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Fake embroidery anyone? Chintzy cat coaster found in a 99 cents store. May 2013. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Now that cats are getting their doggy revenge through the internet, it’s only right that the 99 cent follow suit. Found these in yet another shop in Queens. Amazing what you stumble upon while buying no name cleaning supplies.

Art classes have jumped on the 99 cents bandwagon. Since I’ve gone back, two of my art classes have incorporated the 99 cents theme. One was from my sculpture class. We had to take something from a 99 cents store and twist it to a piece of post-modern art. I was assigned the task of remodeling a pasta strainer. The other class fared much better. In my InDesign course we had to go into a 99 cents store, buy a product with horrible packaging, and rebrand the item with a better look. I chose a box of alphabet shortbread cookies, and replaced it with a neo-retro design. It was okay. Looking back I could’ve eased up on the shadowing. Realize now that only the actual cookie product, which I scanned myself and re-arranged needed shadows but not anything else. Overall I received an A for my InDesign class.

Rebranding of a 99 cents cookie brand. Fall 2011. Cartoon and design by Michele Witchipoo.

Rebranding of a 99 cents cookie box. Fall 2011. Cartoon and design by Michele Witchipoo.

You would think items brought from a 99 cents store would have a limited shelf life. On the contrary. I’ve had this zebra stripped picture frame for over ten years. The photo cost more to print than to frame. This one is dated from 2000 with my dearly departed black cat Tabitha.

Zebra photo frame. A 99 cents find from over ten years ago. That's me from 2000 with my cat Tabitha. (She passed away in early 2008). Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Zebra photo frame. A 99 cents find from over ten years ago. That’s me from 2000 with my cat Tabitha. (She passed away in early 2008). Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

These 99 cents stores are great for low budget holiday decor. Last example of this blog is of another frame found Halloween 2010. In keeping up with the theme of all things witchy. I used this frame to display one of my business cards at the last comic con I did.

BTW…I hope you don’t think my apartment is decorated completely with 99 cent finds. C’mon. I’m not that tacky.

Another photo frame. Witch theme. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Another photo frame. Witch theme. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

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Continuing where I left off yesterday, (Yesterday’s blog post) now I’m going into music pins, buttons and badges of the 1980s.

My button collection started during my preteen years. It was around sometime during the early ’80’s, and I had just discovered rock music. The closest supplier of these badges was a local head shop called Yogi Lala, located in Astoria, Queens. For a small shop it was jammed packed full of juvenile delinquent merchandise. All sorts of hippie accouterments, silver biker jewelry, patches, drug paraphernalia, and hard rock band tee shirts. If you wanted the back of your jean jacket painted with a rendition of a particular Black Sabbath album cover, this was the place. For good measure, Yogi Lala mixed the sex, drugs and rock n roll wares with some 14k gold trinkets.

There was certainly a variety of genres covered within the rock music merch this place sold. Not only did they have your average classic rock groups like The Who, Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, etc., but they also had the burn out Hard Rock stuff, Heavy Metal, and the newer New Wave and some Punk rock stuff. Mostly the more famous, or should I stay infamous bands like The Sex Pistols.

If you couldn’t find what you were looking for in Yogi’s, you could always walk further down Steinway Street, which to this day is one of Astoria’s main shopping areas, and check out Jolly Joint. The Jolly Joint’s store was a bit more spread out. It was a head shop as well, with a tiny more emphasis on the music. Jolly Joint was pretty successful in its day, with a second shop on Main Street, located in Flushing, Queens.

Jolly Joint is no more. Yogi Lala is still around, but they mostly sell gold jewelry now.

Anyway, I would start to buy these small music pins from these kind of stores. The pins would be proudly arranged with style and care on my jacket before heading off to my crappy junior high. The other kids would make fun of me listening to rock music, but I paid them no mind. I loved The Go-Go’s, Joan Jett, Soft Cell, Human League and David Bowie.

Metal David Bowie pin from the 1980s. Let’s Dance era. Most likely brought at Yogi Lala during 1983. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

I was very fascinated with the whole New Wave and Punk subculture, even back in junior high, although my tastes at the time were more mainstream. Guess this is when I started observing different types of counter cultures.

Assortment of Culture Club pins from the 1980s. Check out the “Boy George for President” button. Maybe since it’s election year in 2012, should I start wearing this again? Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Then came Culture Club. I loved Boy George so much, I even tried to dress like him. If you look in the photo, you can see a button that says “Boy George For President.” As I type this, it’s election year of 2012. Perhaps I should start wearing this one again?

Anyway, my attempts of emulating the Boy just resulted in more verbal abuse from my classmates. The comments got more ignorant too. My favorite one? “Are you a fag lover?”

Since I hated my junior high so much, I swore I would never continue getting my education alongside these ignorant f-heads. So I applied for a whole bunch of the NYC ‘magnet’ schools. To both my surprise and relief, I got immediately accepted into the High School of Art and Design. From there I met more like-minded peers. One of these kids would take me to my first ‘underground’ club, despite the underage factor. It was the original Danceteria, and I loved every second of it. Another girl took me to my first excursion into Greenwich Village. It was up and down 8th street to be exact. Eighth street at the time was the main shopping strip of the village area, full of record stores, imported shoe shops, clothing stores, etc. Located towards more going 6th avenue was The Postermat. That was my new found base for my button fix.

During my freshman year, my tastes in music was leaning towards mainstream rock, top-40, new wave and imported UK pop bands. I was still big into Culture Club then. For a brief time though, I was listening to the newer metal bands like Motley Crue and Twisted Sister.

Dee Snider, lead singer of Twisted Sister. 1980s pin. Possibly gotten from a button trade. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Sometimes us A&D students would trade with one another. I traded something for the U2 band shot, as seen in the middle of the pic below. I think a friend gave me the Cyndi Lauper and Prince pins. A loner guy mysteriously gave me the Billy Idol one. I forgot where the Frankie Goes To Hollywood button came from. Check out the photo below. I’m surprised I still even have these.

Various 1980s music buttons. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Needless to say this phase didn’t last long. I discovered Siouxsie and The Banshees. Right there everything changed. Went to Astor Place for a major haircut, dying my hair much to my father’s chagrin. My wardrobe completely changed. I discovered Bleecker Bob’s, purchasing a second hand pair of combat boots. Boy, did those boots piss my mom off.

Most importantly, my music tastes had changed. I embraced the classic 80s Goth and Post-Punk bands. I liked much of the seminal ’77 Punk stuff, like The Ramones, for example. Although I never got into the Hardcore or crossover genres that much. As you can guess, my button collection reflected this. Instead of Culture Club and U2, I had bands such as The Damned, Bauhaus, and Sisters of Mercy. Most of the classic 80s Goth bands found a spot on my schoolbag. Only I wasn’t going to school as much. I had also discovered playing hooky. That particular discovery is something I still regret to this very day. I’m making up for lost time now, but there’s still a ping of regret somewhere.

Unfortunately, most of my button collection from that particular time is gone. Don’t know where they went. Perhaps they’re in a draw somewhere at my parents’ house, but at this point I’m not going to bother looking. It’s the past after all.

I did find this, however. An X-Ray Specs pin, which I think I might’ve gotten from the original Manic Panic shop in St. Mark’s Place. Was it that, or was it the pin that said “Oh bondage up yours!” I think it was the latter. That particular pin was stolen by none other than this kid Mike Waste. He stole from almost everyone. Not only did he steal that pin, he also stole my Cure shirt and something else. A total creep who told tall tales. He had ratty hair extensions that clung for dear life from the brim of his cap. Yet I heard about the early Industrial bands through him. I always knew he lifted from me. I suppose twenty years later I’m kinda sorta getting my revenge by calling him out on a public blog.

Here’s the X-Ray Specs pin that escaped Mike Waste’s grimey paws:

X-Ray Specs badge. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Now that I’ve blogged about these pins, perhaps its time to finally get rid of them. After all, they served their purpose. Maybe sell them on eBay or something. Besides, I’ve got my memories. You can never take that away.

However, if all else fails, you can tell people this:

Where’s the beef? Button from mid-1980s television commercial ad. The slogan was part of the Wendy’s burger campaign during 1983-84. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

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Happy Monday everyone.

Since a heatwave was upon us, I did the next best thing. Stayed home, sat in front of my AC, and finally worked on my website.

*Sigh* Long story about this website. I had an ex who promised me the world and then some. I already had html knowledge under my belt, but he insisted he would produce a much better page for me. Look, he claimed – I even got webspace for you. So I waited.

Of course, his promises went up in a cloud of pot smoke. As it turned out, the webspace he claimed he got for me turned out to be under his brother’s account. An account that someone trying to establish some kind of presence with cartoons and illustration should probably have some control in regards to content, etc. On top of that, he would get annoyed whenever I would remind him of his promises. Finally he relented and designed some kind of website – using Adobe Photoshop as a platform.

Adobe Photoshop as a way to design a website? As you can guess, it didn’t come out that good. The product wasn’t even finished. As it turned out, he jumped ship to design another website for someone else – with much better results. What a slap in the face…or at least a blackeye.

In my frustration, I went ahead, called the hosting company that his brother’s account was under. Had all my files switched over to a brand new account, this time under my name. I did this all on the phone to customer service. Meanwhile, as I was on the phone, my ex cruelty taunted me, laughing at my frustration. Due to this, I lost my temper while speaking to customer service. Score one for him. Then because of life, and the confusion of the mess the website had become, the pages sat there unfinished for years.

In the middle of all this unnecessary rubble, my original .com was brought out by another company. I was in between residences. Quite frankly, I was homeless during this point because me and ex had reached a boiling point. This is a completely different story but one day I will blog about these wretched experiences. Anyway, for the spring and summer of 2007, I was homeless for a while. Crashed on my parents’ couch a bit, but mostly while I had to take care of some issues, was couch surfing between two states. Not a good time, but the experience has made me a much stronger person. In the middle of all these ‘chaos’ my .com was brought out by a porn company. I found out about this incident just weeks before I was about to show my work at a NYC indie comic con. (A table I had reserved months before all this hit the fan.) The website I had listed was about to be printed in either a program listing, or some magazine. I had to call the person doing the listing and nipped it in the bud, just in the nick of time. Luckily the person doing the listing was completely understanding.

I guess one can chuckle about it now. At the time though, it was a time when nothing seemed to be going right for me. I was extremely vulnerable, and surrounded by vultures who I thought were my friends. Parasites who claimed to wanna help me, and in fairness, some did – with a price. (Yet I did meet some genuine people during this time, and those are the ones I kept in touch with after my crisis was subsiding.) In all though, what most of these people did was take advantage of me, and the situation I was in at the time. Vulnerability is a dangerous thing indeed.

Back to the website. I’ve had people look into the site for me. A few of these peeps commented something about how messy the site was. Yeah yeah, I know I would nod back. However, I had also become hesitate to let anyone touch it. Part of my reasoning was that if anything went wrong, I didn’t want to burn bridges or lose friendships. Another was my gut instinct was telling me otherwise. Always go with your instincts. They never fail – unless you go against those same instincts. Which is what I did when I hooked up with the ex. Had I followed my gut instinct, I would’ve never hooked up with him. Thus would’ve saved me three years of trauma. Two years being with him, and another for getting my life back together. Oh, and the expensive fallout afterwards.

Let’s put it this way: as soon as I was back in NYC, and my temp holiday gig was over…I was exhausted.

So let’s hit the fast forward button to June 29th, 2012. I had an odd dream. May sound kooky to some who’s reading this entry, that is, if you even made it this far. Not getting into details, but it was enough to light a fire under my ass. I sat down in front of my lovely air conditioner, praised the Goddess of The Air Conditioner, and banged out this site.

Finally I felt a sort of victory, taming this monster of a website. It’s not as professional as I would have liked it to be, but it’s still better than staring at a black page. Doing this website was also another nail in the coffin which contains my calamitous past. In a way, it was another subconsciousness step of taking my power back.

Hopefully by reading this blog post, the reader will get some sort of idea of where I’m coming from, and why I’ve developed into the person I’m currently am. A form of catharsis.

Perhaps this quote by writer James Baldwin could explain it better: “The victim who is able to articulate the situation of the victim has ceased to be a victim: she has become a threat.”

Here’s a link to my new ‘official’ website, as of July 2012. You can finally order copies of my self published comic through PayPal, and contact me for commissions. : www.witchesbrewpress.com. It also mirrors to www.witchesbrewpress.net.

My new ‘official’ website as of July 2012. WitchesBrewPress.com. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

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Monday night was the “Art Takes Times Square” event. I had almost forgotten about it. Originally I wasn’t planning on attending, but then I figured, why not. It was only a short subway ride to Times Square. Figured I would snap a few pics and head back home.

It wasn’t hard to find the crowd. My rough guess about the crowd itself, it mostly consisted of artists who had participated in the contest. Then again, it’s not often that your artwork gets displayed on a 9×12 digital billboard in the middle of Times Square. Even if it was only for a minute. Still, it was joyous, as a marching band played during the festivities.

Mini marching band during the Art Takes Times Square event, Monday June 18th, 2012. Photo by Michele Witchipoo

I made it to 42nd just in time to catch my image broadcast on the screen, maybe around 10pm-ish.

My illustration on a 9 x 12 digital billboard in the middle of Times Square. Art Takes Times Square event, Monday June 18th, 2012. The illustration was originally created and finished December 2010. Illustration and photo by Michele Witchipoo.

Then there was the after party. Okay, I was curious. Since I was one of the many artists who had their work shown, again I figured, why not.

Usually I don’t go to mainstream clubs or parties. I don’t even hang out that much anymore, to be honest. Back when I was into being social, my choice would usually be places found on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Either dive bars or small underground clubs playing more ‘Alternative’ music like post-Punk, Goth, retro 80’s New Wave, Industrial, etc. Sometimes Metal or basic Rock n’ Roll. Occasionally I would go to drag queen parties, which would sometimes be mixed with the whole downtown ‘Alternative’ scene, or fetish events. Back in the ’90s, I went to some Raves and Rave-type clubs, but again, it was part of the whole ‘Alternative’ culture. This was back during the ’90s and early 2000s’. But as for more ‘mainstream’ clubbing, I rarely did such thing.

I got to see what I was missing at the Art Takes Times Square after party. Which wasn’t much. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time, but it felt a cross between Studio 54 and Zoolander. Well, Maybe the Tunnel mixed with Zoolander. Certainly reminded me of an early Love and Rockets comic, particularly a few panels in a Palomar story (if you don’t know what I’m talking about with the Love and Rockets comics, don’t worry.) Either way, take your pick. My favorite part was that some of the party people dressed up in costumes. It’s an aspect of clubbing that I miss very much, sort of like the old ‘Club Kid’ scene. Then again, it’s probably not fair to continue comparing today’s parties with the club events from my youth. It’s a different time after all.

Open bar at the Art Takes Times Square after party. Monday night, June 18th, 2012. Photo by Michele Witchipoo

You could tell that at this after party, there were people who had never been to a NYC nightclub before, and it showed. So it felt like a high school dance, only with an open bar. At least there was good wine being served. The DJ sporting fashionable bunny ears played a variety of musical genres, mostly tried and true classics. Hip-Hop, 80s Pop, Current top-40, Michael Jackson, AC/DC and Nirvana. You know, typical stuff you play for a catered wedding party. Actually, now when I think of it, it did feel like a catered wedding event, only minus the food. After a while, my cynicism dropped down a bit. Observing the other guests, you could easily tell who wanted to be creative with their outfits, which I appreciated, and who just wanted to strut like a peacock on the dance floor, striving for attention. About 90% of the crowd was truly enjoying themselves with this outdoor party. It was a perfect night for dancing too, as the mid-June weather was just right.

The angel and the devil meet. The devil says “is it hot in here, or is it me?” In which the angel replies, “is it a sin to wear glittery Speedos?” Monday night, Art Takes Times Square after party. June 18th, 2012. Photo by Michele Witchipoo.

As I’m pretty much free-writing this blog entry, I realize just how cynical I have become. Wow. It is due to age? Well, I’m not that old. Not yet anyway. At the same time, I thought about something I haven’t even recalled in aeons. Like when I went to Danceteria for the first time. I was maybe 15 or 16, and had no business being there. Thanks to my caked-on Siouxsie Sioux wanna-be makeup, I made it past security who assumed I was older than I actually was and never even asked for my ID.  I wasn’t a regular Danceteria patron, but I was friends with another under-aged classmate, who went every weekend. It was this same classmate who took me to my first club that had an ‘Alternative’ scene. Once I stepped inside the building, I explored the many floors Danceteria had to offer. It wasn’t long before I got swept up in the whole underground environment. I loved every minute of it.

I even snagged one of my first ever boyfriends inside that club. It was after a Public Image Limited show at the Beacon theater. Some people wanted to head down to Danceteria afterwards to chill out, and I followed. As I sat in the club’s video lounge, some skinny dude with a small mohawk sat next to me. He inquired if “I had ever gone out with a punk rocker before?” And of course, he wasn’t of legal age either.

My days at Danceteria lasted as long as that one week high school boyfriend. Danceteria shuttered its doors, and then the Jennifer Levin case happened. Afterwards, the NYC clubs cracked down, asking to see your ID.

Back to the present and my current jaded self. Isn’t lovely to be an adult? I speak with jest, but in all, the party wasn’t bad. Seriously, I’m not a hater as I’m making myself out to be. After all, clubbing is a bit like going to church every Sunday. Nightlife survives not only on music, dancing, and fashion – people need to connect with one another. Deep down inside, very few people desire to be alone.

Being my usual cynical self at the Art Takes Times Square after party. Monday June 18th, 2012.

What am I doing here? Art Takes Times Square after party. Monday June 18th, 2012.

The after party was showing the same images that was just displayed in Times Square hours earlier. Alright, I thought to myself, and so I patiently waited to snap another photo. By the time my art and name rolled around, open bar had ended, the crowd dwindled, and a few peeps here and there started getting douche-y. My illustration pops up. Just as I snapped the pic, some big-headed jerk gets in my shot. Then I heard the first few notes of The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry” – a band that I am now permanently sick of since 1990 – and I was out of there.

As soon as I went past the ropes, the bouncers politely bid me farewell. Which was actually nice for a change; ’cause I do have to say, the security was surprisingly mellow. I bumped into a friend, who had just come out from work. We chatted for a bit inside another bar, which played the same Rhianna song I’d only heard earlier at the after party. Times have certainly changed, but it’s not every day you get to see your art displayed in Times Square. So yeah, that was the nicest part of them all.

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So the other day I read this online article. It went like this; some married actor who knows all about the almighty power of Christ made unwanted advances to some model who knew the power of the almighty internet.


I’m talking about the exchange between devout Christian actor Brian Presley, and model Melissa Stetten. Supposedly although Presley was married with child, he put the moves onto Stetten. A bad move indeed. She went on Twitter and posted the entire conversation. Her 13,000 Twitter followers read every word. Here’s the link to the article, in case you have no clue what I’m talking about: http://www.happyplace.com/16363/melissa-stetten-uses-twitter-to-humiliate-attempted-adulterer

Which I can’t help but wonder…aren’t you supposed to turn off your cellphone during inflight? And if she was able to get internet service while inflight, well then dude, what cellphone company is she using?

Anyway. First impulse after reading this article, you mutter to yourself “busted” and laugh. Perhaps you might post a link to the article you’ve read onto Facebook. Which is what I did. On the surface, as my friend puts it; “So ‘self-important douchebag’ meets a ‘big deal on the internet’ and a fight breaks out on the short bus.”

Yeah, pretty much.

Sigh…relationships. As the character Randal in the 1996 film ‘Clerks’ says: “I find it best to stay out of other people’s affairs.” It’s really no-one’s business speculating about other people’s relationships. Married, not married, separated, divorced, stable, ‘it’s complicated’, monogamous, open… who really cares? Is it really anyone’s business? Can we really pass judgment and speculate upon others? In reality, the answer is no.

Don’t get me wrong though. Do I have any sympathy for Presley, who fell off his Jesus juice wagon? Oh hell no. One of my pet peeves is hypocritical so-called religious folks. Like when Foetus once sang, “A Good Christian Is a Dead Christian.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Dog4Rv0IhI ) If this story is indeed correct, well then the douche had it coming. The ‘self-important’ thespian was on center stage. Relationships are one thing, but using religion as a crutch, and then being an outright hypocrite is ten times worse in my opinion. And I don’t mean second coming. Unless he’s had his third, or fourth… oh! Bad joke drum roll please. Bah-da-dum!

All bad puns aside, you also have to consider this. Through this model’s Twitter account, we only know one side of the story. Hers. In reality, there are actually three sides. Her side, his side, and what really went down. In the day of digital gossip and hearsay, there’s a fine line between mocking someone and outright slander.

And let’s be real here. Not all women are victims. In reality, many women can be outright vicious and cruel. Melissa certainly isn’t a victim. Just like the majority of men can be assholes, the majority of women can be bitches. It’s the truth. (Is the author of this blog post, Michele, not a ‘people person?’ Why goodness gracious, you’ve noticed!) Also, one can’t help but wonder that if Melissa the model went a little too far with her tweets. Let’s say the model is the narcissistic bully here. She exaggerated this situation, and slandered for comedic effect, power, and media attention all for herself. Publicity at any cost. This is the same model who only a few months ago, claimed to have won some million dollar jackpot as a hoax, and then posted the prank online for all the world to see.

I knew women like this. Oh yeah, and men do this too. They love to slander, exaggerate, and collect blackmail. When the time is right, or when you’ve caught on to their crappy little game, they gather the evidence. As they collect all the dirt, they twist your words into something ugly, taking what you’ve said completely out of context. They’ll even sometimes outright lie, and then afterwards stab you in the back. When the knife is plunged, they’ll sprinkle a little touch of some spicy slander. In the game of life, this happens every day.

Yet on the internet everyone and their mother has an opinion. Just like everyone has a butthole. Mind you I’m being polite here. Some comments on one site briefly detailing this incident were actually defending not the possibility of this guy being slandered, but actually defending his borderline harassment. Ah, good old sexism prevails.

And ladies…we’ve all been there. At one time or another, no matter what we look like, we’ve all experienced unwanted advances at some point.

Back when I was younger, and cuter, and sometimes thinner, I had experienced situations such as these. Mind you, I was never as gorgeous as the Twittering model we speak of. So you can imagine that for every aggressive unwanted advance I had to endure, just multiply hers by a hundred.

Ironically I started re-reading this book titled “Thing of Beauty.” It’s about another model, Gia Carangi. Although Melissa Statten isn’t anything like former supermodel Gia, the book offers brief glimpses into the business of looking pretty for the camera. With that, here’s another way of looking at this situation. Melissa the model is in the business based on looks alone. She deals with constant scrutiny, sometimes rejection, and enduring upscale sexual objectification from shallow cretins. There’s a few exceptions, but as a general rule, a fashion model’s time in the limelight is limited. All that matters is your fuckablity, whether or not you show up on time for shoots, and if your look makes the chak-ching sound. Perhaps this encounter with Mr. Married Dramatis Personae was her breaking point.

You see, I believe that feminism and post-feminism doesn’t come from taking a whole bunch of ‘Women Studies’ classes in college, or attending pseudo-intellectual lectures. ‘Cause politically correct academia isn’t the real world. True post-feminism actions happen within everyday situations. Having to deal with continuing misogyny from both genders, that’s the real world. How about underpaid single moms worrying about putting food on the table. That’s the real world. Yeah, yeah, as of this posting it’s the year 2012, but as much as things changed, there’s still of lot that needs to be changed. Having to sit next to an overly aggressive, hypocritical dipsomaniac for a redeye flight – that’s the real world. And sometimes ignoramuses just don’t know when to quit it. So in the end, I’d like to shake Melissa’s hand, when she’s not busy tweeting.

Angry female texting. Art by Michele Witchipoo. Pen and watercolor, created June 7th, 2012.

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I almost wasn’t going to do this post. For starters, the word “douchebag” is being used more than ever. The more people use it as a put-down slang, the more silly it sounds. I admit it’s an immature way of describing people. Maybe because 2011 was a banner year for douchebaggery. Eh.

Where do I begin? Considering the past year had so many choices, all which nearly cemented my misanthropy even more. Almost.

For what I can see, 2012 already has a few candidates. Despite wishful thinking, it looks like 2012 just might continue where 2011 left off. We’ll see.

Anyway, back to some of the candidates for this ever-prestigious title. Who can forget Charlie Sheen? Who can forget his winning formula of tiger blood and goddesses? What cancels him out though was he supplied enough comic material to keep us running for the first half of 2011.Winning!

Jersey Shore. Could it be that they just might snag the honor for the second year in a row? Nah. Just let them burn themselves out, and eventually they’ll all wind up in your local AA meeting. Unless one of the cast members really needs the moolah. My bet is on Situation. Can’t you just see him on a program such as “Celebrity Rehab,” milking his 15 minutes for all its worth? Don’t even get me started on Snookie.

Then there’s these politicians vying for the GOP presidential nomination. Each and everyone of them truly deserve the title of “Douchebag of 2011.” Each and every one of them, but that would be too easy.

On the other side of the fence, Obama isn’t doing so hot himself, especially since he signed the NDAA act into law. Makes you wonder exactly whose side he’s on.

One strong frontrunner is Lt. John Pike, better simply known as “the pepper spraying cop.” The campus cop who causally pepper sprayed peaceful protesters in California. He’s kinda-sorta getting his already, since becoming a popular internet meme during the latter part of 2011.

In the end, the prize stays on the East Coast. The person with this dubious honor is none other than NYC Mayor Bloomberg.

Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg. The recipient of the Douchebag of  The Year award for 2011. Congratulations.

Bad enough Bloomberg had his mayoral term limits extended; so when he was part of the NY Occupy eviction, he looked like a hypocrite. It wasn’t just the Occupy incident though. He was consistent all throughout 2011. Starting with the snow blizzard in the beginning of January 2011. You would think as a businessman, he would know better than not to be more prepared for a NYC winter storm. Anyone who has grown up in New York City can tell you, sometimes its winters can be pretty harsh. Yet, Bloomberg was out of town during this snowstorm, and therefore was severely under-prepared for the Dec. 2010 – Jan. 2011 blizzard. The result of his oversight didn’t affect most of Manhattan as much, but when it came to the outer boroughs, he failed. Passengers traveling on public MTA transportation was stranded for hours, as local buses broke down. In some cases, right in front of some people’s houses. Neighborhoods in Brooklyn, Queens and other areas weren’t plowed – in some cases, one or two weeks later. Bloomberg successfully managed to do what many others couldn’t….had NYC temporary shut down.

Bloomberg tried to make up for his winter fiasco by over hyping Hurricane Irene. Okay, I’m not saying Irene wasn’t dangerous, but it barely passed through NYC. Instead it had more of an impact in the more suburban and rural areas such as Long Island, Upstate New York, Massachusetts. Hey, at least the local supermarkets made a profit.

During the Irene press conferences, Bloomberg tried to not only warn city residents in English, but in Spanish as well. Normally, not a problem but he mangled the Spanish language pretty bad. He just should’ve hired a professional translator instead. It’s not like he didn’t have the funds. Besides, people needs jobs, don’t they? No comprendo.

When I was doing a bit of research for this blog post, I discovered this little fact; Mayor Bloomberg wasn’t even born in NYC, nor was he raised here. Bloomberg was born in Boston, Massachusetts, and grew up in the surrounding suburban areas.

Without further ado…here’s the Douchebag Of The Year for 2011, going to Michael Rubens Buttberg, er, I meant Bloomberg. Congratulations, Mike. Not only did you earn it, you deserve it.

Douchebag of The Year Award.

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