And below it, objectified images of women looking ridiculous and being sexualized.
"We make her paint her face and dance," John Lennon sang on "Woman is the Nigger of the World."
And guess what, that's what it takes for the Daily News to put women on the front page.
Al Franken was forced to resign yesterday because he asked for a kiss years ago. The Daily News duly agreed that The message it's wrong to even ASK for a kiss, and it's HARASSMENT if you ask a second time. The message today? Women should be admired for leaving a breast hanging out, or jumping around in their underwear.
There seems to be a strange, sad arc to the progress John hoped for in 1972. When wrote and sang "Woman is the Nigger of the World," it was rare for a woman to be addressed as "Ms."
In 1972 you could hardly find a woman in the U.S. Senate. There were few women reading the news on TV. It would be a year AFTER his album was out, that Bobby Riggs battled Billie Jean King in a pop culture tennis match.
And now? Justice Ginsberg is not in the news because there's always a Kardashian or Jenner "wardrobe malfunction" to report on.
Is it progress that radio stations don't dare play "Woman is the Nigger of the World?" Not when there's the confusing double-standard of Black comedian Larry Wilmore saying "My nigga!" to President Obama's face with the cameras on, but Bill Maher nearly losing his job for using the word in an anti-slavery joke.
Where was the woman on the staff of the NY DAILY NEWS to say that sexualized images of women have no place on the cover of a family newspaper?
Where was the woman to say that the Internet should stop degrading women by making celebrities out of the ones who are willing to pose half naked or romp in whorish costumes?
If you do NOT want the Harvey Weinsteins and Matt Lauers of the world to objectify women, it would help if you do NOT objectify women as part of our "culture."
These are strange times, when Al Franken and Garrison Keillor and others are forced to resign their jobs because of minor flirtations that should have and could have been handled with a firm "You're going too far. Stop or you will be reported."
It's ok for reporters to seek out lurid confessions and publicize "wardrobe malfunctions" instead?
Are Trump and Kim listening to "War is over if you want it," along with the leaders of Isis, Hamas and Boko Haram?
37 years ago, I was sitting at a typewriter writing an entire magazine, by myself, in tribute to John Lennon. I had to be persuaded because it seemed to come from a commercial viewpoint. As in, "The Elvis Presley special magazines sold millions of copies. A John Lennon is a natural." I said, "OK, I'll do this, but it has to be done right."
I was pretty stressed. I needed to write about John as "occupational therapy." When the art director walked by and saw me typing away, he paused and said, "This is gonna make a lotta money."
I got up and walked out. I was down the hall and at the elevator when they got me. "OK," I said, "But NO MORE MONEY TALK." And I went back and finished this:
PS, magazines like this aren't books. I got a flat freelancer's fee and no royalties. Maybe the art director and other staffers were going to get a percentage, but I wasn't. I was there to chronicle John's life and his songs, and I was fortunate to be a fan enough to have so many books and magazines and clippings at home that I didn't have to spend time rushing to a library to make sure of a particular fact. The company had contacted a few photo agencies and a few boxes of photos were dumped on my desk. I was supposed to know who everyone was, where the pix were taken, and write captions. Which I did.
I wrote an editorial on the first page of the magazine, explaining my mixed feelings in creating the magazine. I was greatly relieved by the heartfelt mail that came into the office and was waiting for me. In a rare move of generosity, the publisher handed me a roll of stamps and asked me to be sure to answer every letter. Which I did. In my replies, I found myself quoting a line sung by Juice Newton, of all people: "The dream never dies, just the dreamer."
I was in Central Park covering the dedication ceremony a while later. It was a dismal, cloudy day. The only "sunshine" came from TV camera crew lights bathing Yoko, Sean and Julian in a yellow glow as they made their way to a podium. They stood along with Mayor Ed Koch, and Koch told the rather meager crowd of reporters that soon, this spot, with its eerie leafless trees and dirt paths, would one day blossom with life and be a tribute to John. Imagine...THAT dream came true.
Other dreams are still dreams.
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