The world is cursed. We have crippling poverty, the AIDS virus, terrorists, chicks that wear mountain boots as casual wear, stale McDonalds, Maseratis that drive at 60Km/h in the right hand lane, red-heads in parliament, Indian boy bands and extra thick condoms. Its not a nice place to live, but life is short, and then you die. One recent piece of unscrupulous cursing from the almighty creator has, however, prolonged the sweet serenity of death. The internet has provided scope and interaction for the world’s global masses, and now 1 in 10 American pets have their own Facebook page. Where public photos were normally reserved for coked up celebrities and adulterous politicians; now even Matilda from Brakpan can publicise photos from the local sheep slaughtering championship. It’s a golden age where anyone can be famous, where the world is your oyster and where you’re only three more “@” tags away from super stardom. But does it breed a false sense of grandeur? You can be an introverted dwarf-child and still have 784 friends, but that’s doesn’t make you popular. And likewise whipping your kit off to reveal a tribal tramp stamp does not make you Giselle with love handles. Facebook models, internet vixens, and models where the “agency” listing is just a bunch of photos your brother took of you in the bath posted up on a “talent search” site, are all part of treacherous underworld. But don’t let me get you down 5’2” 70KG pale brunette from Villiersdorp; your dreams are totally going to come true.
Now you could look upon me as mean, conceited, and generally a bit of a cock. But I implore those offended to think of myself as the ungloved pimp-hand of reality, slapping your dumb deluded self through the face. This is sound advice, use it!
The introduction of the Facebook fan page was similar to the invention of Cocaine: great for average folk to really appreciate a DJ’s music they’d never heard before, but really bad for slutty blonde wannabe models that aren’t as good looking as they think. Now I’m getting asked to “Like” someone’s average self-produced portfolio where the ever-fancied “duck face” is taken to such a level that it looks like she’s just given a blowjob to a swarm of bees. If you have posted 400 photos of yourself, but you only have 60 fans, then take that as a hint to change your envisaged life path. The “About Me” sections of these pages are great for depressed people because you realise that your life isn’t actually so shit when compared to some of our local wonders. “Model/Actress/Singer/Writer” is occupational speak for unemployed or stripper, but with the majority of these future runway stars not looking much better than Kathy Bates after a car accident; it would be better if they kept their clothes on.
I am prevented from putting up pics or names of the perpetrators, you know who you are, and your mediocre looks are fading in front of your computer screen.
Small town South Africa is fabulous. Mud huts and rondawels have been replaced by turquoise Venetian palaces with bright purple garages. An ode to lumo; these Afrikaans dwellings are a salute to the Voortrekker. However the obvious lack of taste, as if someone had taken a grinder to the tongue, is seen in more than just extravagant properties. Certain modelling “agencies” have portfolios of runway models where the ramp is actually more attractive than the person. Delusion (or the inclusion of an hallucinogen into the production of veldskoen) has persuaded these goddesses and gods, to go shirtless for fame. Excited by the prospect of super-stardom; these poor souls post pictures that would have made the Men In Black shoot them in the face for being obvious alien intruders. Is there a market for this? We ventured over to www.geminimodels.co.za a small boutique agency in Mossel Bay with about 100 models on the books. Its great reading. Here are some local icons for appetite wetting.
So what’s the point? I guess sometimes it’s better not to encourage people to do something they aren’t good at. Don’t like the page of someone who spams every inbox her scraggly vagina lips can reach. Its cruel, not only to them, but to others who are then forced to look at her pursed mouth and eyes clearly longing for attention. Im not a model. It’s not something to feel bad about. I’m great at other things. But signing yourself up for something public that then gives some asshole like me a platform to publicly flog you is not good for self esteem, or the environment. You’re better than that. But honestly, find a real job where there aren’t even CCTV cameras, because A.) Your image should never be recorded, and B.) Your hideous looks will probably force you into a life of crime. Hopefully at night. When its dark.
*Follow: @Stroobz as he searches the web for hidden beauties, and publicly nipple pierces a cat.
all photos courtesy of geminimodels.co.za