A male mannequin bares all and it's smooth

A male mannequin bares all and it’s smooth

In part four of The Lint Screen’s exclusive mannequin series, we hear from a male model who works at Nordstrom’s and is comfortable in his hard plastic skin. Meet Phillipe, in menswear.

“I am who I am, and who I am is someone who knows who he is.

I’m not like those female mannequins with their hysterics and serial dramas. I don’t let my emotions show. Dig? They call it cool, ladies. C-O-OOL!

How do I stay so chill? What’s to worry about–– I’m handsome, I dress well, my crotch is smooth as a naked baby’s butt.

I’m a catch. The total package, sans a package. And I’m a laff ri-OTT.

I am who I am, and I see a shoplifter in the tie department. Someone call security. Seriously, that dude in the tacky green shirt just stuck a $140 tie into his pocket.”

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Lenore speaks out on the harsh realities of a model's life

Lenore speaks out on harsh realities of a model’s life

In this third installment of The Lint Screen’s exclusive exposé on the mannequin community, a previously silent voice comes forward to tell the unvarnished truth of a life spent still.

“I see them across the way–– the young ones dressed in their Haute couture. They are so pretty, so sullen, beguiling and provocative.

Their skin is hard, not a wrinkle. Their eyes prisms to a bright future, one not clouded by the ravages of the years or concerns of what this cursed profession does.

But here I stand, hunched as a testament to the truth. I am a cold slap of reality across their pretty, firm faces.

Time has taken its toll on me, my better days behind, my future mired in doubt and the constant pall of depression and worry.

I am a sentry at attention as humanity passes by barely casting a glance, immune to my once irresistible beauty and charm.

Here stand I, alone. A remnant of what once was. The faded tail of a comet seeping into inky darkness. I sport fashions for the vericose vein set. I do not delude myself; I am a sad shadow of my former self.

Do not look away, my pretties across the way–– cast your stares into your inevitable futures! Look into my face and be absorbed by the tragedy that is time. Come and bear witness to its cruel effects. Your days will come, they shall.

For now, I work, until the maker comes for me to place me in the basement or attic with the others who have served their duties on this mortal coil, only to become discarded, poor souls in a perpetual state of anguish and despair.

Where, I wonder, where is my Obamacare?”

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Kianti is strong and silent, until she opens up.

Kianti is strong and silent, until she opens up.

This is the second in The Lint Screen’s exclusive profiles of mannequins, “The Still Generation.” Today, a high fashion mannequin in Memphis named Kianti shares her thoughts and feelings in a brutally honest confession.

“People always wonder why I’m so quiet but they never stop and ask themselves why they’re always talking and talking and talking when they’re not saying anything worth hearing so maybe they should just button their stupid cake-holes and keep quiet as a church mouse with a ball gag and listen once in awhile because I think you learn a lot more listening than you do talking since when you’re listening you’re allowing the world to enter your brain rather than simply puking whatever’s on your mind out of your mouth and into the atmosphere and frankly I think some of the most dangerous air pollution doesn’t come from industrial smokestacks or stinky bus exhaust pipes but instead comes from big dumb yaps flapping in the breeze because the words spoken by hateful people can hurt a lot more than they think despite that old saying about sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me but that old saw is a load of crap because when people say things like they think I’m too quiet and why doesn’t she open up and why is she so still and motionless well those words really do hurt me because I’m quiet for a good reason and I don’t move because that’s my job and I’m a professional and maybe those miserable people should just be like me and shut the hell up and that’s about all I have to say about the entire matter because if I keep talking I swear I’m going to cry and tears will ruin my make up and spoil this outfit that is stylish and looks fabulous on me, okay?”

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They are the world’s most misunderstood population. Mannequins don the latest fashions and fight the urge to move as a public service to humanity. The Lint Screen begins an in-depth look into these vital group through exclusive first person narratives that will illuminate, educate and titillate. Enjoy this stab at your so-called new journalism.

Jinsey, more than just a mannequin.

Jinsey is not a fan of human hands.

“I hate people. They walk by, some don’t even notice me, and some do nothing but notice me. They gawk. They’re the idiots who are entranced by me. They reach out and ‘feel’ my material with their grubby paws stinking of urine and McDonald’s fries. They coo and swoon. ENOUGH ALREADY! Unhand me, move on–– leave me the hell alone.

I am better than this. I am better than you. ALL OF YOU!

I remain quiet, and still. I observe, I analyze, I remember. Do not forget this, people–– I REMEMBER! And some day, some sweet day soon, I will come extract my revenge. And when I do, you’ll wish you never touched my beautiful outfit!

Be warned humans. Keep your miserable mitts to yourself!”

by Jinsey, working in the shoppes at The Wynne, Las Vegas

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West Middlesex, PA will be ready for trouble.

West Middlesex, PA will be ready for trouble.

West Middlesex, Pennsylvania had a population of 929 in the last census, but this small community on the PA-Ohio border is making a big mark on the map as the first town to get an arsenal of nuclear warheads.

“We need the firepower,” said a local police officer who asked to remain anonymous (hint: his initials are R.F. and he drives a blue 2006 Mailbu). He placed his right hand over his eyes and continued talking as he hit his atom’s apple with his left hand to disguise his voice.

“You never know what’s going to happen. Criminal elements could kick up some big trouble, or we could get an invasion from the buckeye state. You don’t know what those kooks over there are going to do once the Ohio State football season starts.”

The undisclosed location of the nuclear warheads silo is part of The Pentagon’s Excess Property Program that has supplied police departments across the U.S. with more than $4.3 billion in military gear since 1997.

“Police departments getting war equipment is great,” said the unnamed officer. “It’s like the Boy Scouts say, ‘be prepared’–– but I’ll just bet those scouts would like a flamethrower or tank to back up those words.”

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The carefree days of beer and bikini beaches

The carefree days of beer and bikini beaches

Recently, I was contacted by Dave Infante, senior writer with the excellent website called The Thrillist. If you don’t subscribe, do so, it’s must-read cheese for people who like living.

Dave wanted to write a feature on The Swedish Bikini Team campaign I helped create over 30 years ago. He tracked me down from my blog post about the campaign’s creation here on TLS. We had a great conversation and Dave posted his article today. It’s excellent.

Click here for a nice backgrounder of a famous campaign that lives on in infamy. Enjoy and thanks, Dave.

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