the japing ape: Lady and the Trump

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Lady and the Trump

I’m still puzzling over Donald Trump’s decision not to fire Tara Conner, the reigning Miss USA. She clearly wasn’t doing her job and made a mockery of her title by snogging a girl in public. Yet the tough-minded tycoon showed a forgiving side to his nature which he had previously been careful to conceal.

“Frankly, I have a lot of compassion for this young woman,” he said on Fox TV.

I bet he has. Gorilla Bananas is no cynic, but even he can detect a possible ulterior motive in Mr Trump’s avuncular concern for a blonde bikini model reputed to have perkiest boobs east of the Rocky Mountains. Miss Conner, of course, was very thankful for her second chance.

“You'll never know how much I appreciate Mr Trump for saving me on this one,” she sobbed at a press conference in New York.

I expect she’s right, although Mr Trump might be lucky enough to find out. The sight of a 60-year-old billionaire with a racoon pelt on his head soliciting the gratitude of a 21-year-old beauty queen will no doubt provoke strong emotions in middle-aged fathers throughout America. “Disgust” would be a possible description of their feelings – “envy” might be a more accurate one.

Human beauty pageants have never captured my imagination. To be honest, I find them degrading. A bunch of girls, most of whom would look attractive enough walking down the street, are forced to wear high-heeled shoes and strut about on a stage like storks. Their smiles are forced, their conversation is inane and their bathing suits might have been designed to show their bottoms to maximum disadvantage. The whole thing is obviously an ordeal for them, which is why they often break down in tears at the end. Even a gorilla knows that the human female will never shine in such a tense and unnatural environment. Women need to be wooed, amused, chased and tickled before they exhibit the most attractive qualities of their gender.

Beauty contests are depressingly trivial. I would much rather see young women competing for a real crown. There are surely nations that have wearied of republicanism and would welcome the idea of a well-spoken lady hosting state banquets, christening gunboats and reminding people of their place. Opinions differ on what the most important regal qualities are – my own view is that a queen should have sufficient presence of mind to make her virtually unshockable. Let us imagine that she is being served breakfast by her butler when a naked man rushes before her while she is munching on her toast.

“Gawd bless yer majesty, may yer reign be longer than me cock!” he shouts.

How should a queen respond? Any woman who screamed, giggled or even blushed could be disqualified immediately. A true queen would say nothing until she had finished swallowing her toast – as queens do not speak with food in their mouths – and then address the man in a calm, measured tone:

“It is most kind of you to say so,” she would say. “Tibbs, would you fetch this gentleman a pair of britches – he seems to have forgotten to put his on.”

After putting on the trousers, the man would be offered a cup of tea in the kitchen and sent on his way with a brace of pheasants and a framed photograph of his sovereign.

A queen does not come cheap, and her toiling subjects would doubtless groan at the taxes required to keep their monarch living in the splendour essential to her role. But wouldn’t that be better than forcing her to earn her lavish stipend by stroking the squirrel on Donald Trump’s head?

// posted by Gorilla Bananas @ 08:13

Comments:

I made a rule as a model- to my agent's displeasure (I was supposed to trust her implicitly and do as she said)- that I would wear a swim suit on the beach if necessary, but not in a studio. And to strut one's stuff in front of an audience would have completely demoralised me. Fortunately as a photographic model I never had to face even a cat walk which I know I would have fallen off.

# posted by

Pat : Wednesday, January 10, 2007

"Stroking the squirrel" sounds like a definite euphemism, so I looked it up on Wikipedia but there's nothing there.

In this day and age, in post-carry-on-Britain, I find it amazing that such a phrase is being left unused by the wider public.

# posted by

Kim Ayres : Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Hear! Hear! I say what ho old chap!
Frightfully British of you to suggest that indeed.
One would presume that such a vile and base subject would have already received a right stern seeing to by the beefeaters even before getting within a barge pole's length.
As for that combover merchant Trump and those supposedly perambulating strumpets, one can only hope that they will burn in hellfire for eternity because of their vacuous behaviour.
:)

# posted by

Anonymous : Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Kim, try stoking the squirrel. Or perhaps smoking the squirrel.

Bothering the beaver?

What am I doing? I've got work to do.

# posted by

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride : Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Sam and Kim: Remember the film Cousins starring Ted Danson and Isabella Rosellini? Ted Danson's son says "kiss my squirrel" to his stepmother.

Pi, I've seen your youthful picture and you certainly had film star looks.

Tarzan, me old mate, I definitely read it somewhere. I'm sure you don't need me to get you pictures of girl-on-girl action.

Don't mock the Brits, Zuba. Unlike you Aussies, they never actually voted to remain subjects of the Crown.

# posted by

Gorilla Bananas : Wednesday, January 10, 2007

"Women need to be wooed, amused, chased and tickled before they exhibit the most attractive qualities of their gender"

Great understanding of the female race, glad I stopped by for a visit. . .

# posted by