Saturday, December 23, 2006

the sorrows of young miss usa


uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. [Photo credit: Jennifer Donley]

it’s been a very turbulent week, but it looks like the threat has been contained—miss usa will not be able to corrupt our young women any more; her reign of bikini-clad, charity-aware, lesbian-kissing terror is over.

and not a moment too soon; had TMZ.com not bothered to dig into miss usa’s personal life and display the artifacts on the internet for the population of lonely bloggers to comment upon, most of us would have remained blissfully ignorant of the fact that this woman, without any thought of the teenagers who do not care as it is, flagrantly performed acts in bars and clubs that you can only see if you spend any time at all partying with 20-year-old girls in bars and clubs—or, well, pretty much with anyone who doesn’t have babies, anywhere. i mean, isn’t that what people mean by “partying” anyway?

but now tara conner, the “reigning” miss usa, is going to rehab, and thank god. this sends the right message to young girls, who, as we all know, will pattern their behavior after any woman under the age of 25 who wears a tiara or other shiny piece of scalp-adornment. in a pinch, even a high schooler with a particularly well-polished orthodontic prosthetic will do. it’s not their fault; they can’t help it—it’s genetic, by way of a decadent culture. it’s why so many women married plumbers after playing super mario brothers. had donald trump—nay, had society—ignored conner’s flagrant demonstration of everything guys want to believe women do for fun, and of everything many women actually will do for fun (if we are to believe what we see on myspace), girls could have gotten the idea that mainstream culture values only good looks, youth, and the pursuit of immediate gratification. we’re just lucky for the counter-influence of magazines aimed directly at this demographic, which regularly feature the faces of the airbrushed, anorexic, amphetamine-amped, and ageless; instructing women on how to get a man, keep a man, sexually please a man, or get over a man; while informing them of all the latest celebrity break-ups, lock-ups, make-ups, or knock-ups.

and while i am on the subject of tiaras gone wild, i would like to congratulate the entire miss usa enterprise for making sure to sufficiently punish that other sinner in your flock, the former miss nevada, katie rees. miss rees, the fact that those pictures of you taking your top off and kissing girls at that party were taken five years ago, when you were 17, is no excuse. don’t you realize that once breasts are exposed to oxygen, they can no longer be used to make the world care about poor children who can’t afford basic school supplies, or disabled children trying to raise money to get to the special olympics? now, the poor and disabled will only get sick off of your rancid, wannabe-philanthropic boobies—how does that help anyone?

in fact, the only way you can redeem yourself now would be to star in a public service announcement that shows how displaying your breasts in public supports suicide bombers and ultimately kills babies. this sends an unambiguous message to today’s youth: having breasts means you support terror.

that’s right—just having breasts, even ones no one wants to see, means the terrorists win. those bastards; even biology is on their side.

and seriously, miss nevada. kissing girls? if there’s anything that straight men who read maxim do not dream of seeing or being in the middle of, it’s two girls engaged in luscious, passionate, sloppy kissing, while they fondle each others’ baby killers—especially if one of those girls is 20, and the other is 18, as was the case when miss usa totally face-humped the shit out of miss teen usa. i can’t think of just one thing that’s right about that. not—just—one.

it’s a good thing that the collective powers of cable news were summoned to sufficiently chastise these young people for behaving as you would expect a young person to behave; Fox News, CNN, and the Associated Press quickly discerned that the story of a woman with a smoking hot body engaging in promiscuous sex, underage lesbian loving, and wild, drug-fueled partying, contained all of the attributes commonly associated with newsworthiness, as taught to them by the adam smith school of journalism. if not for them, who would be our reliable source for gossip and rumor? whose outrage and petty vindictiveness would signal to the world, and to americans themselves, the truth of our niggling, jealous, and hypocritical morality? perhaps that is why to be a hypocrite in america is the greatest sin of all. and if we couldn’t rely on news organizations to spank those individuals, the tales of whose immoral behavior promise to titillate viewers during dinner—viewers, let’s be clear, who would never dream of escaping the boredom of their lives and partying right alongside the accused—well, then how could we entrust billionaires with the ability to anoint role models by placing shiny objects atop the heads of 20-year-olds?

and though one could say that perhaps the best thing would have been to leave it all alone; that we should have allowed the miss usa organization to deal with its employees, aka tara conner, the reigning miss usa, and the former miss nevada, katie rees, if they believed the women were performing their duties poorly, i’m sure many americans are very happy to see that both of them have been publicly shamed. the feeling of moral vindictiveness makes me almost as happy as the blow job i never had a chance of receiving from either one of them, even if i had cut witney houston herself into lines and served her up on a glass countertop for both of them to enjoy (though, for the record, the former miss nevada was not known to indulge). and i do hope that sean hannity is successful in his efforts to get the letter S tattooed across their perfect chests, so that no one ever forgets their sins; in fact, he may be only one freedom concert away from raising the money to pay for the inking.

because, don’t you see, tara conner makes it difficult for us to convince kids that they will be eaten alive by goats under the light of the next full moon if they decide to sleep around, experiment with drugs, or do any number of things we are afraid they will do on their way to adulthood. and we should know what dangers lurk in the wilderness of adolescence—after all, most of us have chosen to remain in those wilds, courting them. raising children in this world is a frightening prospect, so when my children are born, i will have them rushed into cryogenic storage, where they will remain frozen in a perpetual state of innocence. i cannot trust myself to demonstrate, through my actions, positive or healthy values; nor can i trust my future children to become curious, insightful adults, who are capable of creating their own moral vision, and who realize that the very same humans whose actions are beautiful and magnanimous also act in ways that are ugly and disgraceful. no; i can't trust them to become adults like that, because i know very few adults like that as it is. and besides, you just don’t grow out of worshipping young, beautiful people with a whole lotta money, now do you?

hopefully you realize now why this is so important. it is mainstream american culture—movies, television, cable and network media outlets—and not women like tara conner, that must take responsibility for the moral education of our children. children must be taught to value sex above anything else—even their own emotional and physical well-being—if only so that advertisers have a tool to entice them into spending money on movies, music, cars, food, pills, surgery, or gym memberships.

every young girl must understand, just like we had to make miss usa understand, that the hot body she may ultimately attain at great monetary, caloric, emotional, or physical cost is not supposed to please her—that body, like tara conner’s body, is for us to gawk at, for us to use to market some charity case, for us to enjoy.

so, teenage girls of america, now do you understand? all your boobs are belong to us.