No, the title is not an indication of my own personal sexuality. Stop thinking dirty, people.

The latest issue of the Catholic News carries a commendable pair of articles talking about how girls today are growing up with a heavily sexed impression of personal lifestyle. They talk about how society and the media (a more damning duo there never was) seem to project the belief that for a woman to achieve any sort of success, be it fame, power or money, they have to be sexual beings or risk being forgotten. It’s a very dangerous message, especially for young people to hear day in and day out.

It’s ironic, in a way. Back in the late 1960s, a science fiction television series sought to show that women WERE sexual beings by allowing them to flaunt their physical attributes without being labelled as “sluts” or “whores”. This famous series, Star Trek, had military uniforms for women that consisted of extremely short skirts yet also depicted such fashion as being commonplace and even pedestrian. The idea was that making women sexual beings doesn’t degrade them as people. Today, however, it is obvious that such a future would require a more enlightened human race, as the people of today are still very much sold on looks rather than substance.

Closer to home, though, I believe we’ve got two excellent role models for our girls. The Dance Floor, our first local dance reality competition, features two all-girl groups, Platinum and E Squared.

Platinum consists of six ladies who are perfectly comfortable with being sexual beings. Their choice of choreography and costume reflect that. However, it would be unfair to say that it is solely their sex appeal that is keeping them in the competition. Platinum boasts an extremely talented and experienced group of award-winning dancers who would not need such a competition to establish themselves. Yet they continue to pull out all the stops as they look to win this contest.

E Squared, on the other hand, had the unfortunate task of having to listen to comments like Bill Calhoun’s suggestion to trim down. Nonetheless, they bounced back and proved that it’s okay being girls in a competition that seems to laud flashy, daring moves. These two gorgeous ladies continue to exude an innocence that is enviable and adorable at the same time.

When it comes down to it, a girl growing up in Singapore should be encouraged to find her own niche, to be comfortable in whatever she chooses to wear, and not be pressured into being something they’re never going to be. We, being part of society (and thus the judging panel of their lives), need to remind ourselves that ‘Ugly Betty’ may often be better that ‘Ugly Britney’.

I’ve just come back from arguably the most exciting, enriching and fulfilling church camp in recent memory. A big thank you to all those involved in the Confirmation 4 Camp. I pray that the experience will be a spiritual anchor for all those who were moved by the Holy Spirit.

However, there’s something that marred the whole afterglow of the event. One of my teens has chosen to delete her blog. It was a blog that chronicled arguably the most important years of life because it is in this time that your personal identity is being formed and nurtured. I only wish I had the opportunity to keep a blog a decade ago.

I’m not exactly sure about her reasons, but it probably has to do with this huge crackdown on blogs by their school or their teacher or something. It’s bad enough that MOE keeps an eye on the blogs of teachers, but for teachers to do the same for their teens is just dragging it too far.

As it is, it is obvious that blogs need to be given the respect they deserve. They are an extension of the writer and if there’s something a reader is unhappy with, then discuss it like civilised people. Don’t be like a certain person who left a comment recently on my blog calling me a ‘faggot’ and not further explaning the accusation.

I don’t like being compared to a British cigarette. For one thing, I’m not that skinny.

Captain America is dead. Long live the American Dream.

At least, that was the big news of last week. Reuters picked up the story and reported on how one of the oldest superheroes in the past century (first appearance in 1941) has finally bit the dust and kicked the bucket. Back home last Wednesday, Life! gave the whole of page 4 to the Reuters story and also printed a blurb at the top of the main paper. It’s reassuring and rather vindicating for a Captain America fan like myself to know that there’s a big real-world reaction to this most shocking and tragic event.

Of course, a lot of the media’s interest comes from the political subtext that could be read from such a literary device. The representation of the American Dream of justice, peace, freedom and human rights has died, killed by the combination of Evil Personified and a brainwashed US intelligence agent. Not to mention that said icon was also involved in a self proclaimed “Civil War” against those fighting for national security, a War which ended when the “right to privacy” surrendered to the “right to safety”.

But for me, a fan of Captain America for the past decade, it’s just a huge tragedy. A tragedy that a man was forced to evolve into a symbol, to grow beyond all human limitations, to represent an ideal that few people still buy into. Because at the end of the day, what writer Ed Brubaker was really doing was returning Captain America back to his status as a human being in a world gone crazy. So it is ironic, then, that when Cap (the man) faces his own mortality, it is all that he stands for that is called into question in the real world.

I guess, in my long-winded way, I’m saying that even though he was a comic book character, as a person, Cap meant more to me than as the personification of an ideal. He was a young man who wanted to fight for his country in World War II but was medically unfit. Still, he persevered and underwent a secret experiment that turned him into a Super Soldier. Then, while fighting one battle after another, he befriended a younger man nicknamed Bucky and together, they became one of the biggest legends of the War. Cap’s story is unique because it is a path we can all follow. No one else comes as close to the Marvel Everyman like Steve Rogers, Captain America.

And now he is dead.

Having watched the Ghost Rider movie starring Nicolas Cage last night, caught a repeat telecast of the 79th Academy Awards this morning and less than an hour ago, finished watching the latest episode of Heroes… I’m swimming in thoughts about what defines a Hero to me. But more of that later.

Ghost Rider, the latest Marvel Comics character to appear on the silver screen could not have asked for a more unique debut. Sure, like several other comic book characters, his story, his mythos, was re-written to better suit a 100 minute flick. Sure, like Blade, he was played by an actor who insisted on making the movie more about him than the comic book character. Ultimately, though, what was different was just how retro the whole movie felt.

Despite a rather angsty storyline (for a comic book movie) – A stuntman sells his soul to the devil to save his father from cancer and becomes a bounty hunter whom the devil calls upon when a demon tries to rule the Earth (What?! I said it was angsty, not believable!), the treatment for Ghost Rider comes as being unable to take itself seriously. It’s like watching Adam West and Burt Ward running around in colourful spandex all over again. But at least THEY had the acting chops to pull off the crappy dialogue.

Don’t get me wrong, though. As a fellow comic book fan, I have great respect for Nicolas Cage and am extremely envious that he is a relatively big name in a Hollywood during a time when comic book movies are all the rage (almost every comic book movie in the past five years has been #1 at the US box office) and is thus able to get the part of one of his favourite superheroes (he even has a tattoo of Ghost Rider!).

I personally think Cage is capable of being a believable action hero, if sometimes breaking the mould, somewhat. His turn in National Treasure as an intelligent, dorky ex-Marine was slightly more appropriate than playing a dangerous criminal who loves his daughter in Con-Air. In Ghost Rider, however, Cage’s version of Johnny Blaze just comes across as being too hokey… too LAME… to really get behind.

Thank goodness his opponents were just as LAME, otherwise you might actually see me rooting for the bad guy. The only person who really seemed to relish his role and to really enjoy it is Wes Bentley who plays the antagonist Blackheart. With wonderful flair and morbidity, Blackheart becomes a villian that any hero would look good going up against.

Though I love Ghost Rider to death (pun not intended), this movie could barely hold my attention, and it was only the fanboy moments of seeing the Ghost Rider side by side with his predecessor from the Wild West that made it worth remembering.

Afterthought: Come to think of it… the only person really to blame is director-writer Mark Steven Johnson, who gave us a crappy rendition of Daredevil that wasn’t helped by casting fanboy Ben Affleck. I’m beginning to sense a trend here…