There's something slightly sad about a depressed old fag who's only claim to fame is telling us just how horribly dressed he thinks certain women are. It's like going to wig-stock just to find out that gay people think that Joan Crawford is over the top--- We get it! I've got nothing against a good looking guy in drag, but since when did anyone need to be told just how ridiculous gay men find women of the 1950's?

Then there's Mr. Blackwell. I don't know if I'd bother even clicking that link--- his resume reads simply "fashion critic", which is a sort of job, like multi-media artist or club-promoter, where you wonder why it even exists in the first place. Coming in at #1 this year is Britney Spears. Whoopidy-Fucking Doo! Should someone really be given air-time for telling us that Britney Spears, classically one of the least sophisticated stars of the past 10 years, dresses so poorly? I'm not defending Brit, who cares, what has she done for me lately--- or ever for that matter, but guess what types of people can dress like a slob and not give a rats ass about it, wealthy people, buster--- Yet the theme is that somehow they should know better as they are in fact the paragons of our vast human social structure.

But the thing is, besides the slight chuckle we get from looking at something someone wore once because it was given to them by Gucci or Prada, whomever, the information in and of itself is fourthousand times more worthless than reading a tv-guide from 10 years ago.

The only people who care about this shit are gay men, people in the fashion industry, and Joan Rivers, a woman so onerous her own husband committed suicide just to get away from her. There's something to be said about an aging man making a career out of observing the flaws in women a third his age or moreso year after year--- maybe scorn is his anti-drug, most likely however, he just hates himself most of all.