Who remembers Jenny Jones? She had one of those trashy daytime talk shows po
pular in the nineties. She was blonde and white and absolutely void of any kind of personality. As a host she was completely irrelevant. But anyone that ever saw two episodes of her show would remember that Jenny Jones only covered like two subjects, which, paraphrased crudely, were: I was geek in high school but now I got a boob job and dress like a hooker! OR My teenage daughter dresses too sexy! The latter subject sometimes featured mothers and grandmothers “dressing too sexy.” Sometimes the teenage daughter “dressed too goth.” The female offender was held guilty 
of crimes of fashion by a crazed, hooting audience while the girl in question was given a dramatic entrance across a long runway where she strutted to her seat. As a teen it was fun to have these clownish women paraded around as objects of half hearted contempt. The women strutting to their seats would typically slouch in some salacious pose, whipping a chunky, fishnetted leg over one knee, holding a cocked, makeup-splattered face with one hand, lips glowing with cheap drug store lipstick affecting a proud sneer. Who did they think they were?
pular in the nineties. She was blonde and white and absolutely void of any kind of personality. As a host she was completely irrelevant. But anyone that ever saw two episodes of her show would remember that Jenny Jones only covered like two subjects, which, paraphrased crudely, were: I was geek in high school but now I got a boob job and dress like a hooker! OR My teenage daughter dresses too sexy! The latter subject sometimes featured mothers and grandmothers “dressing too sexy.” Sometimes the teenage daughter “dressed too goth.” The female offender was held guilty 
of crimes of fashion by a crazed, hooting audience while the girl in question was given a dramatic entrance across a long runway where she strutted to her seat. As a teen it was fun to have these clownish women paraded around as objects of half hearted contempt. The women strutting to their seats would typically slouch in some salacious pose, whipping a chunky, fishnetted leg over one knee, holding a cocked, makeup-splattered face with one hand, lips glowing with cheap drug store lipstick affecting a proud sneer. Who did they think they were?Who, indeed? If I learned anything from Jenny Jones it was that some people can in fact be “too sexy.” The white trash skanks on the Jenny Jones were just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak; most would agree that none of the painted women on Jenny Jones’ show would qualify as “sexy.” However, in presenting the question of “too sexy,” Jenny Jones has opened the conversation to the problem of people who are certifiably sexy, and who are at the same time, problematically too sexy.
But how to qualify this authentic form of sexy? I could write a whole book on the elaborate science of sexy, but to cut to the chase, we can use the women of the Jenny Jones Show as a definition of sexy by negation. So a sexy person by virtue would know how to dress themselves in a tasteful, flattering style suiting their age. A sexy person would be able to build on natural physical assets instead of pretending to have assets that just aren’t there. A sexy person would not go out wearing a doughy mask of makeup. A sexy person would have a unique self image that worked in relationship with non-physical characteristics of that person’s identity.
We now have a working set of criteria for sexy effectively oppositional to the women of the Jenny Jones Show. For whom, then, does the sexy bell toll? To answer that question, we must venture out to the Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg. Williamsburg, according to Wikipedia, is home to many ethnic groups including Germans, Hasidic Jews, Italians, Puerto Ricans, and Dominicans. The neighborhood is also a magnet for young people moving to the city, and is an influential hub for indie rock and so-called "hipster" culture. 
A hipster is someone guilty on all counts of being too sexy, and they are ruining this country. In the same wiki article on Williamsburg: Low rents were a major reason why artists [i.e. hipsters] first started settling in the area, but that situation has drastically changed since the mid 1990s. Average rents in Williamsburg can range from approximately $1400 for a studio apartment, $1,600-2,400 for a one-bedroom, and $2,600-4,000 for a two-bedroom.
Way to go douche bags! The rent hikes are partial to the insurgent sexiness of hipsters flooding the streets with their tight pants and knit hats and ironic pompadours. Everyone wants to live in sexy town! Landlords take the cue, hike up the rent, and oust long withstanding generations of tenants noticeably less young, white, and sexy.
Well the joke is on you, you sexy bastards! All your sexy clamoring for a Williamsburg apartment has forced you to haul your skinny asses to Red Hook or Clinton Hill in order to maintain status quo with romantic squalor. Sexy town rent is now too high for the incoming sexy. Great. Nobody gets anything. Sexy or otherwise. Let’s all make a hungry, sulky, skinny sigh for the American Way.
Solution: Send all the hipsters into outer space. OR. Send all the land lords into outer space. OR. Mandated citywide uniforms for all New York citizens so everyone looks like crap thus bringing an end to just about every imaginable prejudice. Problem solved!
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I think Jenny Jones was the show where they had a gross-o-meter and the the grossest category was "Osama Stinkbomba"
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