Heidi Klum got herself cast in the latest Sia video about melancholy girls in underwear lighting men on fire, the summary visual definition of feminism. Heidi makes out a lot with the dude who got his head exploded in Game of Thrones before they torch her house and she runs out with the wig of the little girl the pedo bear cast in Sia’s previous three videos. At some point they close in on the lingerie Heidi’s wearing revealing it’s her own branded line available at numerous department stores with previously worn versions for sale on Craigslist. If you ever wondered what would happen if models had brains, this is it. Not mountain top strongholds with lasers like I previously predicted. Heidi Klum is worth $70 million. She banged, gestated, worked, contracted, and plotted every single dollar therein. She won’t ever get a school holiday like that dude who helped migrant strawberry pickers get raises from 30 cents an hour to 34 cents an hour, but young people should study her just the same. This German chick is America’s last chance.
America’s Got Talent. But not necessarily enough to find American hosts for the America’s Got Talent show. I’m no jingoist, but if we’re pulling Howie Mandel out of our asses we might as well invite ISIS Toyota pickups to cruise down the pot-holed streets of our fruited plains. I’d keep Heidi Klum in the off-chance one drunken night she mistakes me for somebody handsome and mounts me like an SS Guard raping ghetto Poles, but entertainment is one of the few categories we still lead the world. That and comfort eating. We lose those and we become Canada. I’d rather die.
Heidi Klum isn’t the kind of me-first super model who doesn’t give back. She’s got wise words for aspiring young models on how to get ahead in a business where tens of thousands of girls are competing for but a few dozen career slots:
You have to be super fit because you have to look good all the way around. You have to be firm and tight. You might have been the most beautiful girl in your hometown and now you are a beautiful fish in a big pond of a lot of beautiful girls, and in order to get the greatest jobs, you have to look amazing. You have to exercise and eat right so your nails are beautiful, your skin is beautiful, your hair is beautiful. Otherwise you will get mediocre jobs. If you want to get great ones, wear lingerie, or swimsuit jobs, your body has to look accordingly – the way the clients want it.
Be super fucking good looking. Check. Having a baby with an Italian billionaire then marrying an internationally hot music star also have to be considered part of the to-do list. Hey, some people’s jobs involving going to college or having to pass a background check, you get free clothes and champagne. You can’t bitch about which French guy you do or do not have to ass tickle from the shotgun seat of his Mercedes. Klum’s advice to prospective basketball players to be seven feet tall and coordinated is coming shortly.
I’m not sure the age when you realize your mom’s work trip was riding some dude’s dick on the beach not your dad’s. When mom jets back in time to bring orange wedges to AYSO, all is forgiven. Heidi Klum drove home the point to her daughters that someday she’s likely be banging their young boyfriends by posting an old nude photograph of herself to Twitter. You know, how modest people do. It’s going to suck when you bring home your teenage boy crush and all he can do is stare blankly at your mom. Truly not his fault when she’s topless and sucking on her nipples at the kitchen table moaning shit in German.
Heidi Klum continues to splash her affections and vagina atop Vito Schnabel on some island in the Caribbean where the laws regarding wealthy 40-somethings raping young men are far less rigorous. Heidi doesn’t have much time as her business schedule ramps up quickly again in the New Year. Vito could lay on the beach with a boner for the next three years and nobody from any office would call wondering where he was. Heidi might just leave him there and come back in March. He won’t have moved. Just funnel some oysters into his gullet and mount. She’s such a pig. I think I love her.
Sometimes it’s enough just to be a celebrity kid with the confidence to hang your wang around a 40-something German supermodel. I don’t like to be naked in front of anybody. It makes me feel like I’m at the doctors or a prisoner of war orientation. But that’s why I spent the day after Christmas in the return line at Target rather than in St. Barth’s banging Seal’s old lady. Lack of shame is its own superpower.