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Is your penis sexy? Rick Owens certainly thinks so

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American fashion designer Rick Owens managed to titillate the internetz with three barely visible floppy wieners. Were those johns made out of diamond-encrusted precious metals? Or were they smartpenises with extra RAM? (Pun intended). Naw, dude. Just average male-model dicks—and, again, they were mostly kept under the hood [insert circumcision joke here].

So what’s the big deal? The double standard, obviously. Designers won’t think twice about parading fully naked women down the runway, but a pinga? Shut your face! Apparently our gnarly, dangly, worm-like genitals have no place in high fashion. Odd, right? Especially because the fashion world is essentially run by gay men and women.

When prodded for an explanation, Rick Owens had a sensible answer:

I pass classical marble statues of nude and draped figures in the park every day, and they are a vision of sensuality—yes, but also of grace and freedom. As a participant in one of our most progressive aesthetic arenas, am I not allowed to use this imagery? Is it only appropriate for a Michael Fassbender movie?

But, I dunno, maybe dicks really are ugly. Or from a fashion designer’s point of view, hard to knit and sew for? Because even William Levy, Latin America’s Fabio or sorts, looks silly in “sexy” underwear (NSFW). We could argue that, thanks to largely conservative Western values, our society has been deeply conditioned to be shocked and repulsed by male genitalia. Can the effects be reversed? Some edgy, image-positive gays have been trying for a while, but the fashion world doesn’t really care about gender politics—unless, of course, you’re like, ridiculously pretty.

But back to the issue at hand: can men’s junk be made to look beautiful? To be honest, even those Rick Owens penis-inclusive outfits aren’t that great. (To his credit, the rest of that collection is actually decent.) Maybe our downtown buddy has too much baggage [insert testicle joke here] to ever be considered pretty. But, well, can you blame him? His closest neighbor is an asshole.

Can somebody please get Anna Wintour on the phone so she can solve this conundrum directly? Or should we go to Lagerfeld?

Years ago Galliano gave GQ an interesting quote:

My craft with menswear, I suppose, is working with proportion; enhancing a man’s good bits but also hiding a multitude of sins.

Yes, John, you should hide that sinful, dirty dick—because it’s only going to make it hotter.

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Oh, right. Old-school Mexicans humiliate their children by pretending they don’t exist.

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I’ve been visiting my mother, and all of our immediate family, for the last week. They’re old-school, rural Mexicans. The kind who always offer food, even if they hate you.

I’m in my mid 30s now, and have been living on my own since I was 18, so at our gatherings I get a proper adult seat at the table. They listen to what I have to say, but it wasn’t always like that.

It’s not like that for my younger relatives, either. At family reunions, I see them out of the periphery of my eye. They’re trying to get a word in, but those older Mexicans won’t allow it. Why would they? What have those mocosos (snot-nosed kids) done to deserve anybody’s respect? Did they pay for their food? For the roof over their head? For their car, gas, clothes? No? Then they don’t exist.

Yes, they’re physically there, but unless they can prove their worth through monetary independence, they’re no one. If they try to make their voices heard, they’ll be silenced by a death stare, or an abrupt change in conversation.

If they persist, other humiliations will be flung at them, such as being asked to do something entirely meaningless, just like their opinion. “Vete a ver si ya puso la marrana” (go see if one of the pigs laid an egg) is a classic. My grandma had one of the most bizarre just-get-the-fuck-out-of-here phrases, which I’ve never heard elsewhere: “Vete a descular hormigas” (go chop the asses off ants).

I know these Mexicans sound like assholes, but they’re like that because they believe in resilience, not fragility. Giving encouragement to a mentally and physically healthy person seems redundant to them. Those people already have all they need to succeed, they’ll think.

To gain their respect, at the very least a person will need to become self-sufficient. That’s how you earn the right to sit with them. Either you’re with that, or you’re not there at all.

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“Trump Dating” site doesn’t want the gays, but allows the “happily married” to join

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You can even be mad at Trump Dating, a new website for lonely — or not so lonely, but just promiscuous — maganogamous people. It’s a perfect representation of their cherished administration, since it’s also homophobic — it only allows “straight” women or men to sign up — and, just like Trump, it’s all about adulterous relationships:

“When you kick off the process of starting a profile, you get two options for labeling yourself — ‘straight man’ or ‘straight woman.’

Yet according to Trump Dating’s rather strange drop-down menus, married people are welcome. For a relationship status, the site offers options like ‘have a significant other,’ ‘happily married,’ and ‘unhappily married.'”

And since no self-respecting republican-specific dating site should exist unless it takes an issue with race, Trump Dating allows their users to be super specific about their genealogy:

“The ethnicity options also seemed oddly specific. In addition to the typical categories, the site includes choices like ‘Scandinavian,’ ‘Polynesian,’ ‘Eastern European,’ ‘Western European,’ ‘Mediterranean,’ and ‘Eskimo,’ a term used to label the indigenous people of Alaska, Canada, and Greenland that is considered offensive and inaccurate.”

OMG, you guys. There better be a second menu where users can identify which of the five Aryan subtype races — Nordic, Mediterranean, Dinaric, Alpine, and East Baltic — they belong to. Otherwise the server room of this Trump Dating is gonna get tiki torched.

Anyway, where you at, Chispa, the “Tinder for Latinos”? You gonna let Trump Dating walk all over you? You need to re-brand to DACA Dong, Canelo Kennedy Courting, or something.

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