The Brilliance of STIFFED. VIVA. VERVE. And ...

The Baby Editor — Moi

The Podcast.

The inspiration. VIVA in the 70s.

My inspiration. VERVE.

OK. OK. I’m always late to the party — ‘cause it’s been out a few months. But here we go. For any broad who has NOT heard of the steamy podcast STIFFED by Jenn Romolini — you gotta tune in — it’s so damn juicy. STIFFED is about the making of VIVA, an erotic magazine FOR WOMEN. Published by Bob Guccione (I know I know.)

I finished it up this weekend lying around on hammocks, blasting Donna Summers and sipping vodka tonics. Perf.

VIVA meant ALL to me. Out in the 70s — my awakening. The podcast tells the story of the scrappy feminists who put it together — the work, the ambition — and the HOT CONCEPT: flipping the coin. WOMEN want sex — WOMEN have desires, WOMEN have power and brains — give us those radical ideas — and while we’re at it: SHOW US SOME D**KS!

It brought many raunchy memories back — along with my OWN work, power and drive.

In the late 90s I created a magazine very much based on this idea. A feminist rag that celebrated US — REAL broads — lots of humor — feminism — and sex. I called it VERVE. We never got up the money for a launch — but that prototype ROCKED. So much fun — so many ideas — working on it with baby geniuses — now grown up geniuses Stella Bugbee, Laura Eisman, Corey Root …

“VIVA meant ALL to me. Out in the 70s — my awakening.”

— MJ

Last image is our logo and first proto cover. Ummm, very much “influenced” by VIVA ey?

Now, 30 some odd years later — creating the platform Glorious Broads, I realized listening to this fucking fabulous podcast (I sound like you Jen) — we are kinda doing VERVE — kinda influenced by VIVA — with the fine art of aging a huge component — and DEFINITELY for grown ass women.

An excellent lead-in to THANK ALL OF OUR NEW GOREOUS NEW FOLLOWERS on our Instagram page I must say…

We find these Glorious unconventional Broads on the streets of NYC — having plenty to say — about sex, about life, about age — and how it might POSSIBLY the best time of their lives.

Thanks to STIFFED for stirring up these memories — just what formed the broad I am today — one with a mission — and still a fine appreciation for a bulging crotch. Do note the images.

Lovers and the Inevitable Age Thing

Strangely appealing …

“Who else do you know who has this — a man who’d eat your p***y all morning, make you eggs, wash your dishes and vacuum your house.” — The Drummer, 74-years-old

And he’s right …

Been thinking a lot about the advantages — and disadvantages — of loving a partner older than you — in my case —The Drummer.

I had always been with the one and only Cindi Gallop on this one. Younger. One good night. Maybe 3. No stay overs. Hot and fun. I had girlfriends for the soul talks thankyouverymuch.

The most significant partner I had before The Drummer was 15 years my junior. It was what I was used to. And demanded. 

But five years ago — I took the dive into … ta dah … men my age. And double ta dah — friendships first.

Pros and cons:

PRO:

Gets my jokes and references (oh god how I have missed this!!!)

A widower — knows how to love. Cliché — but my truth.

Arty and – yea – gonna use the term – a friggin bohemian — which I love.
(except for the khakis and vests. Yikes … my own Maynard. G. Krebbs)

Doesn’t want to marry again. (yea)

Has his own place and doesn’t want to cohabitate. (double yea)

Open to explorations in the sack.

All still working. Whew.

CON:

Closer to the exit.

Closer to the inevitable changes of … aging. 

Closer to the disadvantages of sex declining. Hey — does that have to be?
I think of Mick Jagger and his 44th baby — and cheer up.

“Five years ago — I took the dive into … ta dah … men my age. And double ta dah — friendships first.Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.”

There have been many comforts of being with someone older — we may dimple together into our 80s. Maybe 90s. I’ll skip the 100’s.

Maybe I’ll stop freaking out at a new rash on his body. Instead choose to pick at each other’s bumps like a couple of Coppery Titi Monkey – the ones who bond for a lifetime.

Now  – that sounds kind of appealing.

Thinkin Cindi Gallop and her point of view – I love it. But mine has shifted. Things have shifted.

I no longer want to be writing the same story – with the same ending – over and over again. 

But am I ready?

Dumped. By a Sistuh.

I’ll have another …

I’m pissed.
No. I’m sad.
No. I’m mad.

How about pissed, sad, mad.

I could take a dump from a romantic partner.
Done plenty of that. And received plenty.

But it’s a BITCH gettin over a dump from a sistuh.

The last time a friend dumped me I knew exactly why.
It was 27 years ago.
And I deserved to get dumped.
I was consistently inconsiderate. And – well – a narcissist.

In other words — young.
And though I deserved it, I think about her every – well let’s not get dramatic – how about – every other day.
Because she was unique. Crazy smart. Super talented.
And one special Broad.
So grateful she is too cool for social media. ‘Cause I’d be a secret stalker to lick those wounds. Yeah, after 27 years.

“Maybe it is that you say things to your BFFs that you would NEVER tell your lovers.”

Why is it that we recoup from romantic breakups? Eventually … And not this?
Stewing, I found a podcast @eifpodcast on this very subject —
They talked about the “closure” theory. That closure ends romantic relationships.
But there’s often no “closure” in friend dumping.

Well. I dumped and was dumped in all kinds of ways romantically.
With often – no real closure. So that theory no help.

Maybe it is that you say things to your BFFs that you would NEVER tell your lovers.
You not only DISH – not only soul talk – you pour your guts out. And they get it.

Did you see that Jane Fonda bit on friendships all over IG?
Talking about attractions — drawn to women who keep her rigid back even more rigid. I liked that. You aim high — especially as we age — no room in your closet for just “hang out” friends.

Maybe that’s it. You are (or perhaps I am) more fussy about my friendships than I am about my lovers.

We won’t analyze that here.

Back to the dump.

Did it have to be during Women’s history Month?
And now — after all those martinis, mega laughs and slobbering cries — making our legacy officially history?

Why is it sooooooo hard to break up with a pal? Your comments may ease my heart. And help me to stop thinkin about the bitch.

Madonna. Rihanna. Cher. And — yeah — Mae West

I know Madonna was the obsession of last week. But this is about RIHANNA and Madonna. And Cher. And — ta dah — Mae West.

And ageism.

I want to share a memory of my very early days as an art director — and blatant ageism and misogyny I was too clueless to see. Or feel. Or say NO to participating in.

At Esquire, in early 90s, I assigned an illustration to a male artist — create a double page spread of Madonna at 65 (which seemed ancient to me and the rest of the young buck staff.) The artist sent me the painting (yes, painting) and I relished giving him feedback: “Make her tits hang more — give her a crinkled paunch and lots more sag around the thighs she’s so proud of.” etc. etc. etc.

“I think the boys were scared shit-less of the power and sexuality of Madonna. And we all did our best to take Madonna down”

I cringe when I remember the glee I took. Cause this was not a realistic portrait of an aging Madonna. It was done with spite, with meanness. I think the boys were scared shit-less of the power and sexuality of Madonna. And we all did our best to take Madonna down — at the mere thought of … ageing.

Yesterday, watching Rihanna at half time — lapping up her power, sensuality, mama-hood— I couldn’t help but wonder (oh that again SJP) — would any young broad today conform to the big boss who shall remain nameless — and assign this sexist art chock full of ageist misogyny — and get satisfaction bringing Rihanna down?

We have turned a page.

Or have we?

Yeah. I am disappointed Madonna is not growing older the way I would have liked her to. But. It’s none of my business. If she wants to look Alien — go for it girl.

I think of Cher and all the shit she got when she wouldn’t “age gracefully” (a term I abhor): "If I want to put my tits on my back, it's nobody's business but my own.”

Preach!

Madonna is our Mae West. And that brilliant artist did not go gracefully into the night. All sex. No shame. No apologies.

Whether it’s Cher, or Madonna, Mae or Rihanna as she ages — and she will age — let’s turn the page and support these fierce bitches. Consciously.

Are you with me?

Women ... Whining???

This cast!!!

"Whajathinkwhajathinkwhajathink? Babe?"

I couldn't even wait 'til we got out of the theatre – I was reeeeeeling with emotions from this EPIC film — “WOMEN TALKING” — despair, lots and lots and lots of rage — and then a tiny bit of HOPE and joy thrown in too — curve ball.

And what did my man say? “I liked it. I was sympathetic. But it should have been edited [the film is 104 minutes, people] — and — there was lots of WHINING.”

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????

My head exploded. But. Being the Grown Ass Woman I have now become (!!!) — a miracle of its own — I said: Umm. Darling. The fuckin thing is called “Women Talking” — what did you expect?  We are holed up in a barn — listening to this cast of the most astounding broads — each one representing a part of what me and every woman’s soul out there is made up of — heroic, scared shitless, wise, authoritative — and then you add in rape and shame...

He grumbled.

I growled. “12 Angry Men” is one of his favorite films by the by — the same fuckin format— different genders. Duh.

And I left the conversation at that. The whining part I could not address and maintain my Grown Ass Woman status.

We drowned ourselves in good pizza, beer and jazz. I love my city.

“The whining part of his comment I could not address and maintain my Grown Ass Woman status.”

My first thought was to tell every woman I know — see this theatrical powerhouse WITH OTHER WOMEN. I don’t care how woke your dude is.

My second thought — MAYBE I AM DEAD WRONG. Maybe this brilliant film is actually required viewing for all men.

Cause there is relevance to all the shit that is going on in our lives. Right now.

And Frances McDormand OMG. Where is her shrine??

Revolution — Preach Chelsea!

My girl ….

She gets it.

She is soooooooo many of us out there — women who get this deeply:

“It is important to KNOW when you don’t have the skills (or just plain ole don’t want) – to raise a baby. Instead of SHAMING people you SHOULD say – ‘Oh good. Good for you — for knowing that you shouldn’t have a baby. You should get a carbon credit for not polluting the mass population.”

YES. ‘Cause we do deserve kudos. And cash.

And this had me shouting — with my girl:

“Like Chelsea: We have fun with ourselves. And we don’t want kids. Simple.”

“I have never been more confident in my life decision making skills — in remaining childless and alone… I have never been alone for two weeks in my life. I had never had a clue about how much I enjoyed the pleasure of my own company.”

YESSSSSSS!

BUT.

We women who CHOOSE to be alone GET A LOT OF... WORDS. THOUGHTS. FEEDBACK. And sympathy? Miss me with all that…

Like Chelsea: We have fun with ourselves. And we don’t want kids. Simple.

We love Chels so hard, and the special is chock-a-block with funny bits (manspainin anyone?). I'm bringing up the lack of offspring because a TikTok  I posted recently got SO MANY bitter comments from pissed off women — whaa? —  and a few dudes. “You will die alone desperate in a nursing home” “how can you possibly say motherhood is not for you when you haven’t tried it.” And on and on. Why? In the Year of Our Beyonce 2023? Aren't we moving beyond the binary? Why oh why can’t these three conversations — the pleasure of childlessness and the pleasure of parenting— the pleasure of a solo life — coexist?  F*** THIS. 'Cause in the end, all this vitriol and judgment is just another way to hate women and parents and families and it's horseshit.

To recap — having no kids: glorious. Having kids — glorious. Chelsea: Mutherf*cking glorious.  It's not pie, there's plenty of gloriousness for everyone my pretties.