D
DeeZire
Guest
After many hours of study and reflection, the Sports Illustrated 2009 Swimsuit Issue has left me confounded and confused. I was hoping I could gain some perspective by consulting with the many bright minds that populate the AH.
Issues in need of clarification, in no particular order:
A. Approximately 21.2% of the models were attempting to pull their tops or bottoms off at the moment the photograph was taken. Does this indicate bad timing on the part of the photographer? Or could it be the photographer was a dirty old man, sneaking his shot while the model was in the midst of changing her outfit? If so, why was she changing in front of the photographer? Does she not have some kind of a tent for that? Where was her union rep? Or is it possible she just needed to give her cootch some air? Or - perish the thought - are those tiny bikinis itchy?
B. The cover model, Bar Rafaeli, appears to be average in weight. In other words, she is not a skeletal waif in dire need of a burger and fries. Plus, she has ginormous round knockers. Does this indicate a paradigm shift in the fashion industry? Are meaty models finally overcoming the discrimination that has plagued them since the sixties? (A related issue - do meaty models poop more than emaciated ones?)
C. Some of the models appear to be using fake names. Consider Lucia Dvorska, Esti Ginzburg, Daniella Sarahyba, Jessica Gomes, Riviera Maya, Melissa Haro, Majria Kirilenko, Daniela Hantuchova and the aforementioned Bar Rafaeli. Don’t they all sound like they just strutted off the screen of a James Bond movie? Does this mean they’re ashamed to use their real names, petrified that Mommy or Daddy might run across a copy of the magazine and have a heart attack? Do they owe money to Saks Fifth Avenue? Midas Muffler? Brakemasters? Did they skip out on their beauty college loans? Are they refugees from some trailer park in Tennessee, fleeing a life of rusty pickup trucks and toothless cousin-marriers?
I mean really Anne V! Who has a last name consisting solely of the letter V? And what, pray tell, does that letter V stand for? *snicker* Or poor Cynthia Dicker. How did she ever survive high school? Is the stunningly beautiful Brooklyn Decker actually from Brooklyn, ready to deck you if you stare at her chest too long? (If so, I’m dead meat.)
Is Jarah Marijuana - excuse me - Mariano a singer in a reggae band? Is that why here eyes are half-closed and glazed over? Does the fact that Jessica White is black raise a red flag? Does Tori Praver realize her name sounds a lot like “prevert”? Has she not considered the fact that preverts all over the world will be touching themselves while looking at her pulling her bikini bottoms down?
And how do you pronounce Sarahyba? Can you imagine GW Bush trying to get through a name like that without having to crack a beer? Or Shayk? Is Shayk the foreign moniker for that scrumptious concoction containing ice cream and milk? And would the lovely Irina Shayk taste like ice cream - you know - down there? If so, what flavor? Would it be proper etiquette to dip a cookie in that ice cream?
Plus, there’s the issue of patriotism. Isn’t Sports Illustrated an American tradition? Are we sure we want to disrespect our national identity with a bunch of foreign sounding names at such a grave time in American history? Oh sure, we’ve got Obama trying to win back the trust of the world after Bush/Cheney pissed all over everybody, but can’t we do it without globalizing our American-ness?
D. And what about nipples? I counted at least six or eight puckered plum nipples in various stages of revelatory status not in compliance with the accepted standards of public decency here in the USA. Has America finally gotten over her Puritanical prohibition of female nipples? And butt cracks! The SI Swimsuit Issue is a veritable celebration of butt cracks. Where is the outrage? Where is the lube? Where is the videographer?
E. I’m not even going to go into the issue of body painting...well, except to ask the rhetorical question: who in their right mind would go swimming in public wearing nothing but a garment made out of water soluble paint?
F. Okay. I got nothing for the letter F, but f’ing is implied in many of the pictorials - the sweaty, middle-of-the-day kind of f’ing, you know, where you suddenly realize you both need a shower but you don’t give a fuck? Beach f’ing is also alluded to in the presentation, which brings to mind an old Steve Goodman song called “Don’t Get Sand In It.” How do overpaid underworked supermodels react when they accidentally do get sand in it? Do they file a grievance with their union rep? Is there a hazard clause in their contract covering this sensitive issue? Is there a cleaning crew standing by with a power washer?
In conclusion: I suspect the many compelling conflicts and conundrums bought to light by the 2009 SI Swimsuit Issue will confound scholars for decades to come, requiring much study and discussion of an academic nature. Realizing I would be under-qualified in such a context, I yield to you, my AH peers, awaiting your thoughts on this perplexing dilemma of questionable taste and dubious importance.
Issues in need of clarification, in no particular order:
A. Approximately 21.2% of the models were attempting to pull their tops or bottoms off at the moment the photograph was taken. Does this indicate bad timing on the part of the photographer? Or could it be the photographer was a dirty old man, sneaking his shot while the model was in the midst of changing her outfit? If so, why was she changing in front of the photographer? Does she not have some kind of a tent for that? Where was her union rep? Or is it possible she just needed to give her cootch some air? Or - perish the thought - are those tiny bikinis itchy?
B. The cover model, Bar Rafaeli, appears to be average in weight. In other words, she is not a skeletal waif in dire need of a burger and fries. Plus, she has ginormous round knockers. Does this indicate a paradigm shift in the fashion industry? Are meaty models finally overcoming the discrimination that has plagued them since the sixties? (A related issue - do meaty models poop more than emaciated ones?)
C. Some of the models appear to be using fake names. Consider Lucia Dvorska, Esti Ginzburg, Daniella Sarahyba, Jessica Gomes, Riviera Maya, Melissa Haro, Majria Kirilenko, Daniela Hantuchova and the aforementioned Bar Rafaeli. Don’t they all sound like they just strutted off the screen of a James Bond movie? Does this mean they’re ashamed to use their real names, petrified that Mommy or Daddy might run across a copy of the magazine and have a heart attack? Do they owe money to Saks Fifth Avenue? Midas Muffler? Brakemasters? Did they skip out on their beauty college loans? Are they refugees from some trailer park in Tennessee, fleeing a life of rusty pickup trucks and toothless cousin-marriers?
I mean really Anne V! Who has a last name consisting solely of the letter V? And what, pray tell, does that letter V stand for? *snicker* Or poor Cynthia Dicker. How did she ever survive high school? Is the stunningly beautiful Brooklyn Decker actually from Brooklyn, ready to deck you if you stare at her chest too long? (If so, I’m dead meat.)
Is Jarah Marijuana - excuse me - Mariano a singer in a reggae band? Is that why here eyes are half-closed and glazed over? Does the fact that Jessica White is black raise a red flag? Does Tori Praver realize her name sounds a lot like “prevert”? Has she not considered the fact that preverts all over the world will be touching themselves while looking at her pulling her bikini bottoms down?
And how do you pronounce Sarahyba? Can you imagine GW Bush trying to get through a name like that without having to crack a beer? Or Shayk? Is Shayk the foreign moniker for that scrumptious concoction containing ice cream and milk? And would the lovely Irina Shayk taste like ice cream - you know - down there? If so, what flavor? Would it be proper etiquette to dip a cookie in that ice cream?
Plus, there’s the issue of patriotism. Isn’t Sports Illustrated an American tradition? Are we sure we want to disrespect our national identity with a bunch of foreign sounding names at such a grave time in American history? Oh sure, we’ve got Obama trying to win back the trust of the world after Bush/Cheney pissed all over everybody, but can’t we do it without globalizing our American-ness?
D. And what about nipples? I counted at least six or eight puckered plum nipples in various stages of revelatory status not in compliance with the accepted standards of public decency here in the USA. Has America finally gotten over her Puritanical prohibition of female nipples? And butt cracks! The SI Swimsuit Issue is a veritable celebration of butt cracks. Where is the outrage? Where is the lube? Where is the videographer?
E. I’m not even going to go into the issue of body painting...well, except to ask the rhetorical question: who in their right mind would go swimming in public wearing nothing but a garment made out of water soluble paint?
F. Okay. I got nothing for the letter F, but f’ing is implied in many of the pictorials - the sweaty, middle-of-the-day kind of f’ing, you know, where you suddenly realize you both need a shower but you don’t give a fuck? Beach f’ing is also alluded to in the presentation, which brings to mind an old Steve Goodman song called “Don’t Get Sand In It.” How do overpaid underworked supermodels react when they accidentally do get sand in it? Do they file a grievance with their union rep? Is there a hazard clause in their contract covering this sensitive issue? Is there a cleaning crew standing by with a power washer?
In conclusion: I suspect the many compelling conflicts and conundrums bought to light by the 2009 SI Swimsuit Issue will confound scholars for decades to come, requiring much study and discussion of an academic nature. Realizing I would be under-qualified in such a context, I yield to you, my AH peers, awaiting your thoughts on this perplexing dilemma of questionable taste and dubious importance.
