Selling Sex

Vice Magazine. Perhaps the glossiest magazine ever. Shiny pages cramped with indulgent hipsterism, selling glorified prepackaged scene cred. American Apparel appropriately owns the back cover. It screams. "Go directly to Scenedom. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200." But the best thing about both of these pandemics--Vice Magazine and American Apparel--is that both are fabulous simply because they are filled with sex.

I know that this is what makes them fabulous, because this is why my father judges me for them. One day, about to drive off my parents' home, I paused to chat with him through the open passenger side window. He eyed the facedown Vice Magazine in the seat, picked it up, humphed at the raunchiness of the ad, and turned it over as if to verify whether or not I was browsing porn. He scowled, dropped it back on the seat, and went into the house.

But that has nothing on the disdain the time that he caught be reading The Story of the Eye in church.