Well, we all know the story at this point, singer Michael Buble and his wife, Luisana, an actress and underwear model, were at a Chi-Chi's, or something, and they saw a girl of indeterminate age standing at the counter wearing little shorts and sporting a really impressive waist-to-hip, and they (LUISANA. IT WAS LUISANA WHO TOOK THE PICTURE.....GOD!) decided to covertly take the girl's picture while Buble (WHO DID NOT TAKE THE PICTURE, OK?) stood smirking in the foreground and post the mess on Instagram with the caption "There was something about this picture Lu took that seemed worthy of Instagram," and the hashtags "#myhumps #babygotback #hungryshorts #beautifulbum"
Gross, right? Oh, and let's take a minute to appreciate him preemptively hoisting this shit-storm on his wife. I mean, we know someone else took it, unless his ass brought a goddamn tripod to IHOP or he and the ghost of Benny Hill decided to go out trolling together for ass-pic opportunities. It's odd for a person to mention who took a picture of themselves in such a casual way unless they need to cover their ass in some significant way....it's like when Robin Thicke got sued by the estate of Marvin Gaye because Thicke's Blurred Lines was too similar to Gaye's Got to Give it Up, and Thicke was all, LOL, I was high, Pharrell wrote it; then Thicke, as though to prove his case without a shadow of a doubt, released his horrible, self-penned album, Paula. I, myself, do not usually attribute random pictures of myself and my family to "some guy feeding squirrels in the park." Perhaps I have been in error. Also, to play devil's advocate, perhaps Luisana is hoping to win a prestigious Audubon Award for her photo journal "Great Asses of the Wild," and she was really hurting for that credit. If there's no credence to either of those suggestions, one certainly might speculate that a small part of Buble's mind recognized the eyeing, photographing and posting of this young woman's ass as questionable, and coughed up, in a sad, little thought bubble, "Hey, Michael.....?"
So, anyway, a few people got a bug in their butts about it, and Buble released this statement:
Gross, right? Oh, and let's take a minute to appreciate him preemptively hoisting this shit-storm on his wife. I mean, we know someone else took it, unless his ass brought a goddamn tripod to IHOP or he and the ghost of Benny Hill decided to go out trolling together for ass-pic opportunities. It's odd for a person to mention who took a picture of themselves in such a casual way unless they need to cover their ass in some significant way....it's like when Robin Thicke got sued by the estate of Marvin Gaye because Thicke's Blurred Lines was too similar to Gaye's Got to Give it Up, and Thicke was all, LOL, I was high, Pharrell wrote it; then Thicke, as though to prove his case without a shadow of a doubt, released his horrible, self-penned album, Paula. I, myself, do not usually attribute random pictures of myself and my family to "some guy feeding squirrels in the park." Perhaps I have been in error. Also, to play devil's advocate, perhaps Luisana is hoping to win a prestigious Audubon Award for her photo journal "Great Asses of the Wild," and she was really hurting for that credit. If there's no credence to either of those suggestions, one certainly might speculate that a small part of Buble's mind recognized the eyeing, photographing and posting of this young woman's ass as questionable, and coughed up, in a sad, little thought bubble, "Hey, Michael.....?"
So, anyway, a few people got a bug in their butts about it, and Buble released this statement:
"Anybody who knows me would never misinterpret the message of the photo my wife took in Miami that seems to have caused unexpected rage by some people. I do not court controversy. But I realize that a photo that was meant to be complimentary and lighthearted has turned into a questionable issue. For the record, It hurts me deeply that anyone would think that I would disrespect women or be insulting to any human being.. I was not brought up that way and it is not in my character. I regret that there are people out there who found the photo offensive. That was not and is not my intention. Women are to be celebrated, loved, respected, honored and revered. I’ve spent my life believing that and will continue to do so."
Ok, here we go:
"Anybody who knows me would never misinterpret the message of the photo my wife took in Miami that seems to have caused unexpected rage by some people."
We don't know you, Michael. That's the point. And, you know, it's like I've always said, the worst kind of rage is unexpected rage. How terrible for you. Did you receive death threats? Did people threaten to rape you? Was your personal address posted on the internet so that people might be able to threaten you and your family? No? Oh, good. I've heard that happens sometimes.
"...I realize that a photo that was meant to be complimentary and lighthearted has turned into a questionable issue."
Haha, I see you, Michael. It was turned into a questionable issue. By...? Hmmm, I don't know. According to the trolls it was probably the feminists, who hate men and are also obese, and lesbian. And ugly. And need sex to be administered to them for various lengths and degrees of aggression so that they can learn to take a joke and/or compliment. For the record, even in the best case scenario, I don't think it does anyone any good to feel offended by something and then to immediately assume it was harmless. Sure, maybe the first reaction also shouldn't be anger, but curiosity. Why did the potential offender's mind settle where it did, and why did the words or actions happen to pass the old sniff-test so easily? These are questions we should all ask and be asking ourselves.
"It hurts me deeply that anyone would think that I would disrespect women or be insulting to any human being."
Ok, this isn't really about your feelings right now, but that's noted.
"I regret that there are people out there who found the photo offensive."
Oh, sure. Anyone over five years old understands that- the un-apology. *I'm very sorry you chose to take this that way, and I feel sorry for you. I hope you feel better later.*
"Women are to be celebrated, loved, respected, honored and revered. I’ve spent my life believing that and will continue to do so."
Ok, let's talk about this. I want to start by saying, very clearly, that there is a difference between liking vagina and liking women. There's a difference between wanting vagina and respecting women. There's a difference between saying a thing you think women want to hear and actually treating women like human beings. My vagina and ovaries....you know, I shouldn't be revered for those. Reading the quote above, I had this awesome mental picture of, like, just a labia with a fine robe and scepter, wearing a crown, out for a dignified walk on its royal grounds, nodding to the peasants. You can go ahead put a woman on a pedestal because you were raised hearing that you should, but it isn't real. You can "respect" someone to the point where they have no humanity, and that's a real problem.
Dude, I can be an asshole. Did you see me stick it to Robin Thicke up there, for Christ's sake? What did Robin Thicke ever do to me? And his dad, Alan Thicke, gave us all so many years of laughter and tears! He wrote the theme songs for both Diff'rent Strokes AND The Facts of Life! Who else would have told us the hard, cold truths of the world, that it "don't move to the beat of just one drum," and what you have after you take The Good and combine it with The Bad? Once I refused to share a cab with a man and woman in the pouring rain because I didn't want to have to make small talk. Sometimes I'm such a douche bag, man, and you know who else is? Everyone. All of the people. We all suck and we're all beautiful and we're all completely capable of the nine hundred zillion points in between. Right? I have this theory that a huge reason for the frustration men have with woman is the fact that just years of princess propaganda has rendered men completely unable to identify with women as people. No woman- no person- can live up to some sterling, invisible grocery list of qualities, such as not having body hair and not farting, among others. Respect me because I'm a human. Love, honor and revere me when I have earned it.
So, look, that's that. The deed has been done and questioned and (to an extent) answered for, and we're on to the next. You might ask why this particular situation was so personal to me, and, honestly, I don't even know. There was a certain banal injustice there that woke my inner Rambo, the one that generally just crouches in the deep brush of the forest in its face paint and simmers, and elbowed it into action. It didn't want to fight, you know? I didn't want to fight, either, but then Brian Dennehy kept harassing me because of my long hair. I was a veteran! He drew first blood, man. HE drew first blood.
"Anybody who knows me would never misinterpret the message of the photo my wife took in Miami that seems to have caused unexpected rage by some people."
We don't know you, Michael. That's the point. And, you know, it's like I've always said, the worst kind of rage is unexpected rage. How terrible for you. Did you receive death threats? Did people threaten to rape you? Was your personal address posted on the internet so that people might be able to threaten you and your family? No? Oh, good. I've heard that happens sometimes.
"...I realize that a photo that was meant to be complimentary and lighthearted has turned into a questionable issue."
Haha, I see you, Michael. It was turned into a questionable issue. By...? Hmmm, I don't know. According to the trolls it was probably the feminists, who hate men and are also obese, and lesbian. And ugly. And need sex to be administered to them for various lengths and degrees of aggression so that they can learn to take a joke and/or compliment. For the record, even in the best case scenario, I don't think it does anyone any good to feel offended by something and then to immediately assume it was harmless. Sure, maybe the first reaction also shouldn't be anger, but curiosity. Why did the potential offender's mind settle where it did, and why did the words or actions happen to pass the old sniff-test so easily? These are questions we should all ask and be asking ourselves.
"It hurts me deeply that anyone would think that I would disrespect women or be insulting to any human being."
Ok, this isn't really about your feelings right now, but that's noted.
"I regret that there are people out there who found the photo offensive."
Oh, sure. Anyone over five years old understands that- the un-apology. *I'm very sorry you chose to take this that way, and I feel sorry for you. I hope you feel better later.*
"Women are to be celebrated, loved, respected, honored and revered. I’ve spent my life believing that and will continue to do so."
Ok, let's talk about this. I want to start by saying, very clearly, that there is a difference between liking vagina and liking women. There's a difference between wanting vagina and respecting women. There's a difference between saying a thing you think women want to hear and actually treating women like human beings. My vagina and ovaries....you know, I shouldn't be revered for those. Reading the quote above, I had this awesome mental picture of, like, just a labia with a fine robe and scepter, wearing a crown, out for a dignified walk on its royal grounds, nodding to the peasants. You can go ahead put a woman on a pedestal because you were raised hearing that you should, but it isn't real. You can "respect" someone to the point where they have no humanity, and that's a real problem.
Dude, I can be an asshole. Did you see me stick it to Robin Thicke up there, for Christ's sake? What did Robin Thicke ever do to me? And his dad, Alan Thicke, gave us all so many years of laughter and tears! He wrote the theme songs for both Diff'rent Strokes AND The Facts of Life! Who else would have told us the hard, cold truths of the world, that it "don't move to the beat of just one drum," and what you have after you take The Good and combine it with The Bad? Once I refused to share a cab with a man and woman in the pouring rain because I didn't want to have to make small talk. Sometimes I'm such a douche bag, man, and you know who else is? Everyone. All of the people. We all suck and we're all beautiful and we're all completely capable of the nine hundred zillion points in between. Right? I have this theory that a huge reason for the frustration men have with woman is the fact that just years of princess propaganda has rendered men completely unable to identify with women as people. No woman- no person- can live up to some sterling, invisible grocery list of qualities, such as not having body hair and not farting, among others. Respect me because I'm a human. Love, honor and revere me when I have earned it.
So, look, that's that. The deed has been done and questioned and (to an extent) answered for, and we're on to the next. You might ask why this particular situation was so personal to me, and, honestly, I don't even know. There was a certain banal injustice there that woke my inner Rambo, the one that generally just crouches in the deep brush of the forest in its face paint and simmers, and elbowed it into action. It didn't want to fight, you know? I didn't want to fight, either, but then Brian Dennehy kept harassing me because of my long hair. I was a veteran! He drew first blood, man. HE drew first blood.
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