Showing posts with label Paper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paper. Show all posts

Friday, March 13, 2015

Mons Pubescent


“The apparel oft proclaims the man, “ advises Polonius to Laertes. And Thomas Carlyle would write a novel entitled Sartor Resartus, literally “tailor re-tailored.” But what about woman?  If we take the cover of the recent swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated, where the model Hannah Davis, flaunts her mons pubis can we conclude that neither clothes nor hair make the woman? The shot leaves little to the imagination, but there is little to imagine. What if Joanna Hiffernan the model for Courbet’s “The Origin of the World,” who also happened to be an inspiration to Whistler, had struck a similar pose. Hiffernan’s pulling her bikini bottom down would have been a far more far more sensational news event. The current epidemic of Brazilian waxing, of which Ms. Davis is apparently the latest public victim (Kim Kardashian’s  recent spread in Paper is another prominent example of a similar phenomenon) has reduced the female genitalia to a state of pre-pubescent nothingness. Pedophiles must be entralled. The Sports Illustrated issue has raised some eyebrows, but when you scour the newsstand to see what all the hullabaloo is about you almost need to be told that something provocative is going on. A risqué pose with a model in a state of undress is nothing new, but what’s disconcerting is to find a sheep in wolf’s clothing, a little girl in the guise of a woman. Unless of course you have a predilection for these kinds of things, you could pass the newsstands where the Sports Illustrated cover is brazenly displayed, thinking that the female genitalia had actually been whited out. It’s reminiscent of another parable, the Emperor’s New Clothes, but also of the experience of dining in one of those trendy new restaurants where you pay a lot for very little and a chorus of praise accompanies minuscule portions which are nearly impossible to see.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Pornosophy: Don’t Behave Like an Ass





Would it be bigamy to marry the ass of a woman who is already married to someone else? This question is raised by the recent picture of Kim Kardashian’s fundament that appeared on the cover of Paper. The fallout from the whole K.K. episode has yet to be felt. You might not want all of her, but there's no doubt that at least a part of Ms. Kardashian, who happens to be married to Kanye West, could provide happiness to the appropriate suitor. Naturally the question of Ms. Kardashian’s ass brings up the whole issue of whether it's possible to love or even be married to a part of a person. Back in the 70’s there would have been many women and men who might have married John Holmes for his endowment. Medical science is constantly making advances. It’s rumored that Chicken parts like wings, breasts and thighs will soon be cloned and human body parts aren’t far behind. Puppy mills will give way to the mass production breasts, lips (both of the mouth and the vulva), thighs and of course rumps by celebrities like Kardashian who will lend her name to them, in the same way she has to her line of perfumes. But what would it be like to be married to Kim Kardashian’s ass? What would it be like to have just Kim Kardashian’s ass lying next to you in bed? And is there a justice of the peace, rabbi or priest who would be willing to perform such a  synecdochic ceremony? One thing is certain, those who fall in love with Kim Kardashian’s ass need no longer fear making asses of themselves.

Bonus question: If Mephistopheles proposed that you could sleep with K.K.’s ass at the price of your soul, what would you do?