Am I the only one here who was totally gob-smacked at the spectacle of politicians, freelance guardians of public morals and the Federal Communications Commission Board all simultaneously crapping their drawers at the reports of Janet Jackson at the Super Bowl Halftime Show baring one nipple in an instant so quick, so fleeting, that the only way you could really see it was to watch the super-slo-mo replay? Am I the only one here who’s more than a little bit annoyed at seeing all these people howling over a nipple being exposed for one one-hundred-thousandth of a second while our manuafacturing jobs are being sucked away by China, our IT service jobs being siphoned off by India, our Bill Of Rights being shredded, and the US is up to its armpits in an illegal imperialist war of aggression in Iraq? Am I the only one here who’s more than slightly disgusted at all the hypocritical shrieking about obscenity and sexuality at the Super Bowl Halftime Show while our airwaves and cable are flooded with Desperate Housewives, Real Housewives, Sex And The City, and beer commercials full of frolicking hotties — not to mention the supreme irony of scantily-clad NFL cheerleaders prancing on the sidelines during the actual Super Bowl game itself? Is there not one woman in this country who’s tired of being driven insane trying to live up to the US entertainment and advertising industries’ official standard of feminine beauty, i.e., emaciated stick insects with visible ribcages and silicone-injected ta-tas big enough to choke a horse?
Well, consider this cartoon a call to action to every woman who’s tired of being told by advertising that her body is inadequate, and told by the Federal Communications Commission that her body is just plain dirty, to write her favorite brief, simple, elegant, dissident message across her chest and take it to the streets.
At every protest, at every media event, get your average, non-beer-commercial-like body into the streets and flash your message at every opportunity. Going to the IMF/WB/Pro-Choice actions in DC this spring? Cruise the streets, look for remote live TV news crews, manuver your way into the near background, and bam, let ‘em have it, your message about censorship and media hypocrisy, emblazoned across your entirely non-Swedish Bikini Team-like bare chest — or, if you’re the shy type, mix up the ol’ paste bucket and hit the streets with this provocative poster while leaving your shirt on the entire time.
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