On That Sports Illustrated Cover
Wait. This is supposed to be a ransom note, but I am realizing I have nothing to threaten you with. Except maybe the last dregs of your common decency. You know, if you have any.
There are a few problems with this cover. We could talk about the impractical beauty ideals that it promotes, the blatant pandering to the male gaze, or the annoying imbalance of two orange bikini bottoms followed by a pink one rather than Chrissy Teigen’s pink-clad butt sandwiched in between. You know Chrissy Teigen loves sandwiches. Why couldn’t you just give her that?
Instead of delving into those topics, I will focus on my most pressing complaint: Why is there not a corresponding magazine cover, but with men? Why, when I imagined one, was I tempted to burst out laughing? Why is it so ludicrous, even to me?
By April 1, I demand a parallel cover with Chris Hemsworth, Ian Somerhalder, and Chace Crawford. In neon speedos. Touching each other’s butts and throwing their heads back, almost unable to handle their combined sexiness.
Oh, and also $5 million in unmarked bills. PAY UP.
Forever yours in resentment,