The other day, I was perusing issues of The Wall Street Journal, because I’m just such a classy guy. Reading those classy articles, watching those classy stocks rise and fall–when all of a sudden, I saw something that made me feel much less classy.
I put the paper down and blinked a few times. I must have imagined it. Of course I hadn’t seen what I thought I’d seen. I picked up the paper again.
Nope. Still there.
And I’m not talking about the crossdressing Conan O’Brien, either.
On the front page of The Wall Street Journal was A SKIRT MADE OF DICKS.
I chided myself for being juvenile. It didn’t really look like…
…like five super-sized circumcised sides of fries.
And even if it did, it had to be an accident. After all, it’s not like the designer made the skirt folds look cylindrical…and rounded at the top…with little heads…and made the whole thing flesh-colored…
How does this happen? First someone had to design this phallic monstrosity, get feedback on it, perfect it, and then it would have been sent to manufacturing, where lots of other people would have seen it and put it together. And then some model had to go and get this thing fitted, then have a photo shoot where who knows how many people photographed it dozens of times. And at no point someone said, “Oh, by the way, you look like you’re wearing a bunch of huge penises.”?! And on top of all that, it goes to the Wall Street Journal and goes through photographers and reporters and editors and printers and NOBODY sees this? And they plaster it across the front page in all its dickish glory? HOW?
Unless maybe it’s trying to send a message. Maybe when we look upon the dick-skirt, we are supposed to think, “Look! There stands a woman, surrounded by the beseeching genitalia of a patriarchal society! But she does not cave to their influence; she stands tall above the throng of sex and chauvinism, a pillar of strength in her own right.”
I certainly hope that wasn’t the plan.
I’m going to assume that it was just a long series of short-sighted mistakes. I’m sure no one planned to encircle themselves with a spinning ring of penises like the worst video game final boss of all time. That just happens.
Well, so long until next week, when we review the Vagina Turtleneck!