Sports Illustrated's annual fantasy issue arrived this week. And I'm not talking fantasy football. Fantasy sex is the focus of this annual rite of midwinter escapism. The so-called swimsuit issue is about swimsuits about as much as Playboy is about the articles.
The only real gripe I have with the whole swimsuit issue is that it is all so unatttainable. The models are perfect. The lacations are exotic. The whole thing is so far beyond any normal person's possibility that it isn't even an enjoyable fantasy.
The girls, or women, or mannequins, or whatever they are, are so perfect that they are beyond sexy. They need some kind of humanizing flaw so that they fit into the normal red-blooded male's dreams. The locations where they model the swimsuits (or actually seem to only wear half of the suit which is usually in the process of somehow being removed) are somewhere in another world from anything we regular folk have ever, or will ever, experience. The combinatioin of pictures of those aliens from another planet with pictures from that planet is way more than I can comprehend. They should call it the annual Science Fiction issue rather than the swimsuit issue.
I gave my copy a cursory flip of the pages and then tossed it in the trash. I can't even summon the energy to be shocked or appalled at this afront to decency. It's all just so unnecessary.