"This is the voice of World Control," a metallic, nonhuman baritone blared from a spherical speaker atop a bank of computers. "I bring you peace. It may be the peace of plenty and content, or the peace of unburied death." The men and women in the room-the greatest minds in the American scientific establishment-froze in horror. The computer, a defense system that had become self-aware after gaining control of the world's nuclear weapons, continued:
The Kennedy Center Honors were always a populist affair, not to be confused with the somewhat more upscale National Medal of the Arts (which Presidents are also traditionally associated with). But under Trump, who shunned them entirely in his prior term, the announced next recipients are an almost comically MOR roundup: Phantom of the Opera Michael Crawford, "I Will Survive" singer Gloria Gaynor, cartoon metal act KISS, cartoon movie machismo exemplar Sylvester Stallone, and veteran country star George Strait, who couldn't be any straiter.
The true extent of this alien craze escaped my attention and on almost every single page, there was something to which I mumbled, "Wow, I didn't know that." Among the many well-deserved accolades about David's book is, " The Martians is ... a fizzing terrific read." (Mary Roach, author of Packing for Mars) In fact, it is far more than that.
The exhibition challenges longstanding stereotypes of Latina women by presenting their representation in popular culture as a narrative shaped by the male gaze and industry control.