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This digital document is an article from Canadian Ethnic Studies Journal, published by Canadian Ethnic Studies Association on June 22, 2003. The length of the article is 877 words. The page length shown above is based on a typical 300-word page. The article is delivered in HTML format and is available in your Amazon.com Digital Locker immediately after purchase. You can view it with any web browser.Citation DetailsTitle: Of Silk Saris and Mini-Skirts: South Asian Girls Walk the Tightrope of Culture.(Book Review)Author: Mythili RajivaPublication: Canadian Ethnic Studies Journal (Refereed)Date: June 22, 2003Publisher: Canadian Ethnic Studies AssociationVolume: 35 Issue: 2 Page: 150(2)Article Type: Book ReviewDistributed by Thomson Gale

Includes: Skirt.

JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT: These boys aren't on a crusade, they have no ideals, they just like to raise a ruckus and don't care who gets in their way. There's nothing in particular that they want to fight about, they just want a fight! Get out of the way when you see their hot Mustang, or you could get caught up in the chaos. THE BLAST-OFF GIRLS: A group of no-talent rockers get their chance at the big time when sleazy agent Boogie Baker gives them a taste of what it's all about. He gets them the hot young girls in miniskirts, the drugs and parties, and in case that's not enough, a taste of blackmail. And it's got a cameo from Colonel Sanders and puppets, puppets, puppets!

Just For the Hell of It (1968, 81 min.) - Teens run amok in the Drive-In double bill from the incredible Herschell Gordon Lewis! A gang of nihilistic delinquents raise hell in a suburban community by doing whatever they want, whenever they want, Just For the Hell of It! Dexter, Denny, Bitsy, and Lummox aren't misunderstood, underprivileged, or even angry, they're just plain bad. When things get dull, they hop in their '67 Mustang and commit senseless acts of cowardly chaos. "Blast-Off Girls" (1967, 83 min.) - Slimeball manager Boogie Baker tries to turn a small-time teenage rock band into an overnight sensation with the help of pot parties, blackmail, and plenty of Blast-Off Girls in H.G. Lewis' answer to "A Hard Day's Night," which also includes a cameo by Mr. Rock & Roll himself, Kentucky Fried Chicken's Colonel Sanders! Source: Image Entertainment, Inc.

DVD Features: Region 0 Snap Case Full Frame - 1.33 Audio: Dolby Digital Mono - English Additional Release Material: Shorts: 1. Drive-In Intermission 2. "Facts of Life" Book Pitch 3. HOT NIGHT AT THE GO-GO LOUNGE Trailers: 1. Original Theatrical Trailer 2. Bonus Trailer 3. Radio Spots - TRASH-O-RAMA Interactive Features: Other: 1. LET'S GO TO THE DRIVE-IN - Allows uninterrupted playback Text/Photo Galleries: Stills/Photos: Gallery of Drive-In Exploitation Art

The groovalicious swingin' '60s, complete with miniskirts and high-hopped hairdos, sets the stage for a red-robed monk and his killer whip in The College Girl Murders.A diabolical scientist cooks up a deadly gas and schemes to make millions. But a midnight rendezvous with a shadowy benefactor goes awry. He soon finds himself sent to the clouds, by the mysterious red monk's mighty white whip. The poisonous gas dissappears. When an innocent college girl opens her bible during church, noxious spray spews forth and kills her instantly. Sir John and Inspector Higgins are called in to investigate. The prime suspects include the headmistress' writer-brother and a nervous, sweaty-faced professor with a yen for young girls. Meanwhile, neck-snapped bodies begin popping up all over campus.Edgar Wallace, the creator of the original 1933 King Kong, concocts a fantasmic display of convoluted storytelling here, shiimied up against a beyond-groovy swingin' soundtrack that'll have you doing the watusi up until der final ende.

DIVIt's Saturday night in Key West and the Girlie Show is about to begin at the 801 Cabaret. The girls have been outside on the sidewalk all evening, seducing passersby into coming in for the show. The club itself is packed tonight and smoke has filled the room. When the lights finally go down, statuesque blonds and stunning brunettes sporting black leather miniskirts, stiletto heels, and see-through lingerie take the stage. En Vogue's Free Your Mind blares on the house stereo. The crowd roars in approval.BRBRIn this lively book, Leila J. Rupp and Verta Taylor take us on an entertaining tour through one of America's most overlooked subcultures: the world of the drag queen. They offer a penetrating glimpse into the lives of the 801 Girls, the troupe of queens who perform nightly at the 801 Cabaret for tourists and locals. Weaving together their fascinating life stories, their lavish costumes and eclectic music, their flamboyance and bitchiness, and their bawdy exchanges with one another and their audiences, the authors explore how drag queens smash the boundaries between gay and straight, man and woman, to make people think more deeply and realistically about sex and gender in America today. They also consider how the queens create a space that encourages camaraderie and acceptance among everyday people, no matter what their sexual preferences might be.BRBRBased on countless interviews with more than a dozen drag queens, more than three years of attendance at their outrageous performances, and even the authors' participation in the shows themselves,iDrag Queens at the 801 Cabaret/iis a witty and poignant portrait of gay life and culture. When they said life is a cabaret, they clearly meant the 801./divDIVList of IllustrationsBRPrefaceBRCast of CharactersBR1 Introduction: What Makes a Man a Man?BRSection I:iI'm Beautiful, Dammit!/iBR2 Getting DressedBR3 Becoming Drag QueensBR4 Being a Drag QueenBRSection II:iTake Me or Le@2áG®záÿ¾Û€

Nominated for the first ever Man Booker International Prize representing the best writers in contemporary fiction, Margaret Atwood is the author of more than 35 internationally acclaimed works of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her numerous awards include the Governor General’s Award forbThe Handmaid’s Tale/b, and The Giller Prize and Italian Premio Mondello forbAlias Grace/b.bThe Handmaid’s Tale/b,bCat’s Eye/b,bAlias Grace/b, andbOryx and Crake/bwere all shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, which she won withbThe Blind Assassin/b. She is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada, and has been awarded the Norwegian Order of Literary Merit and the French Chevalier dans l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres among many others; she is a Foreign Honorary Member for Literature of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. She lives in Toronto.brbrbriFrom the Paperback edition./i1brbrWe slept in what had once been the gymnasium. The floor was of varnished wood, with stripes and circles painted on it, for the games that were formerly played there; the hoops for the basketball nets were still in place, though the nets were gone. A balcony ran around the room, for the spectators, and I thought I could smell, faintly like an afterimage, the pungent scent of sweat, shot through with the sweet taint of chewing gum and perfume from the watching girls, felt-skirted as I knew from pictures, later in miniskirts, then pants, then in one earring, spiky green-streaked hair. Dances would have been held there; the music lingered, a palimpsest of unheard sound, style upon style, an undercurrent of drums, a forlorn wail, garlands made of tissue-paper flowers, cardboard devils, a revolving ball of mirrors, powdering the dancers with a snow of light.brbrThere was old sex in the room and loneliness, and expectation, of something without a shape or name. I remember that yearning, for something that was always about to ha@#Â?\(õÃÿ¾Û€

MARGARET ATWOOD is the author of more than twenty-five books, including fiction, poetry, and essays. Her most recent works include the bestselling novelsbAlias Grace/bandbThe Robber Bride/band the collectionsbWilderness Tips/bandbGood Bones and Simple Murders/b. She lives in Toronto.brbrbriFrom the Trade Paperback edition./i1brbrWe slept in what had once been the gymnasium. The floor was of varnished wood, with stripes and circles painted on it, for the games that were formerly played there; the hoops for the basketball nets were still in place, though the nets were gone. A balcony ran around the room, for the spectators, and I thought I could smell, faintly like an afterimage, the pungent scent of sweat, shot through with the sweet taint of chewing gum and perfume from the watching girls, felt-skirted as I knew from pictures, later in miniskirts, then pants, then in one earring, spiky green-streaked hair. Dances would have been held there; the music lingered, a palimpsest of unheard sound, style upon style, an undercurrent of drums, a forlorn wail, garlands made of tissue-paper flowers, cardboard devils, a revolving ball of mirrors, powdering the dancers with a snow of light.brbrThere was old sex in the room and loneliness, and expectation, of something without a shape or name. I remember that yearning, for something that was always about to happen and was never the same as the hands that were on us there and then, in the small of the back, or out back, in the parking lot, or in the television room with the sound turned down and only the pictures flickering over lifting flesh.brbrWe yearned for the future. How did we learn it, that talent for insatiability? It was in the air; and it was still in the air, an afterthought, as we tried to sleep, in the army cots that had been set up in rows, with spaces between so we could not talk. We had flannelette sheets, like children's, and army-issue blankets, old ones that still said U.S. ?Ð