I Like to Watch

March 18, 2007 | "I think the Pussycat Dolls have had a large influence on my generation, and that's why I think I've gravitated towards their music." -- Natascha, 19

Every so often, a cultural groundswell crashes down on us with a force so strong, it knocks us off our feet and grinds our faces into the sand. Whether Natascha is referring to the Pussycat Dolls' seminal hit "Don't Cha" (as in "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?") or to the inspirational message that the Pussycat Dolls have to share with aspiring hoochie mamas nationwide, one thing is for certain: A new generation of ladies has risen up to shake its collective ass in the face of mankind, and to take its God-given place on the drool-spattered strip-club stage of history.

Sure, we could point to the early precursors of this movement, the dadaist forefathers to their surreal rise to power: Madonna, wet T-shirt contests, "Dirty Dancing," "Baywatch," the neo-feminist insistence that dressing like a slut was a form of empowerment, the Spice Girls, Victoria's Secret, Maxim, the rise of high-end strip clubs, Hugh Hefner's kitschy but effective "Meet my five hot-slut girlfriends" publicity campaign, "Girls Gone Wild," Christina Aguilera's insistence on describing just how nasty she could be, Hooters, Britney Spears' transformation from winsome Lolita to "Slave 4 U"... The cultural precedents are countless, so countless that most of us can take at least part of the blame for the ass-shaking revolutionaries we created. Whether we purchased a Wonder Bra or proclaimed our right to wear short shorts to high school or hummed a few strains of Prince's "Dirty Mind" way back when, we were inadvertently sowing the seeds of a whole new generation of filthy 'ho flowers, little ladies who dress like Godless whores and talk like drunken sailors and swing their hips like wanton harlots, honeys who are not only dirty and shallow, but who proclaim their right to be dirty and shallow like they're engaged in a vital and important grass-roots struggle to safeguard the enduring freedoms of womankind henceforth.

Hell, maybe they are. All I can see are their bubble asses shaking in my face. And strangely enough, Generation Whoring Sea Donkey wouldn't have it any other way!

Sighs and dolls
Yes, yes, I know. Those nasty, filthy little sluts, who do they think they are, etc., etc. But isn't that the desired response for any generational uprising? When a generation stomps its 7-inch stiletto heel and says, "I'm here, damn it!" aren't we supposed to cringe and wince at the fact that their butt cheeks are falling out of their short shorts? When we avert our eyes but we still can't help noticing that their boobs are propped up so high that one of their nipples is showing, doesn't that mean, for them, that freedom is still on the march?

But, just to be clear, while we all sang along with dirty lyrics when we were 12 years old, these girls make Prince look like Bing Crosby. They don't dream of being Madonna or even Britney Spears, they dream of squatting on the floor of a shower stall for a photographer from Maxim. Wanting fame for fame's sake is perfectly fine to them, and Paris Hilton or Anna Nicole Smith or Nicole Richie aren't punch lines, and no amount of scary bootleg porn videos or crotch flashes or driving the wrong way down a freeway, high on Vicodin, can change that. When card-carrying whoring sea donkeys are interviewed, they don't talk about their love of acting or singing or dancing or fashion, they talk about turning men on -- as if that's a difficult thing to do!

Fascinating, isn't it? Even though men think about sex so much that a glimpse of a bare toe will make them go wild, even though it's not actually necessary for a girl to take off half of her clothes and get on all fours to get a man's attention, these little dears seem downright anxious to do just that!

But the women I find the most heroic and courageous are the hoochie-mama hens, the slightly older, Gen-X, whoring sea donkey mentors who believe wholeheartedly that they're instilling strength and confidence in their charges when they instruct them on how to bend over a pool table. Take Robin Antin, creator of the Pussycat Dolls and a central character in "Pussycat Dolls Presents: The Search for the Next Doll," (9 p.m. Tuesdays on CW), the latest television show to suggest that the whoring sea donkeys are storming the gates, ready to rape and pillage and take what's rightfully theirs -- namely, lots of skin-tight T-shirts that say "Daddy's Girl" on them in hot-pink glitter.

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