There are no amount of artful nudes of people of all shapes, sizes and state-of-genitalia that will get me to "change the way (I) see beauty forever." Whether that's my cynicism, societally ingrained prejudices, or my hyper-enlightened acknowledgement of the subjectivity of beauty in all forms, is inconsequential, as inconsequential as inventing a tampon for a dinosaur. Their headline overreached, like cloning a dinosaur just to have a reason for the dinosaur tampon to exist.
Whenever a celebrity "slams" another celebrity I am plagued with the compulsion to click (I love celebrity beefs like deities love highly specific mass murder) inevitably I'm disappointed as the celebrity-in-question is saying something so innocuous that it is as though they heard the celebrity have the daintiest of farts and called it crapping their pants.
The pre-editorializing these headlines do are preventing us from creating informed opinions. This makes me sad. Sadder than a mule that just found out it is the result of interspecies erotica. ("My...my dad is a what? No! How can I live as the spawn of a jackass!?!" I've been living with this fact for years, but the initial shock is difficult to bear.) Worse, this type of pseudo-journalistic distorted overstatement is now considered a valuable skill.
|This is Dickens, father of modern journalistic bullsh*t.|
Lest anyone think this is a modern invention, I give you the first line of Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness..." blah blah, you get the idea. Dickens was the original bedazzler of turds. He would take a squirrel carcass, adorn it with lights and glitter and convince us it was magic, all to get you to turn the page and buy his lazily embellished prose.
The generations hence have polluted our brains with a hazy-yet-ravenous need to satiate the most salacious and prurient vicarious desires tucked away in the shadows of the wrinkles of our brain. Much like how stress gives people ulcers, this constant tease of lascivious details of the pretty is leading to STI's of the brain. Always wanting to see the most licentious details but never getting them, is creating, as the grammatically incorrect title suggested, Brain-Aids.