Is Clay Hot?

No I am not; that's why I write. I am beyond balding. I wear glasses. I am hairy. (Well, just my back, chest, shoulders, ass and stomach.) My posture has been described as "wet rag-esque". I'm really skinny. Junkie skinny. Thurston Moore after a month on Survivor skinny. But hey, I'm happy with who I am. That's all that's important, right? Right?

If not, my mom has a lot of explaining to do.

But if it is true, then how miserable must a person be if she needs the approval of Lorenzo Lamas' saggy, tanning bed-dehydrated penis to be happy? How empty does a life have to be before flaunting your steroid addiction becomes the only hope you have for inner peace? I'm guessing pretty miserable and pretty empty, but that was at the beginning of the first episode of Are You Hot, when I still cared. Now there aren't italics big enough to capture the laughter my girlfriend and I shared while watching:

• big, black breasts ooze out the side of a nickel-plated bra
• legs that look like my wrists (did I mention that I'm skinny?) being hailed as voluptuous
• Greek twin brothers do everything in their power not to fuck each other, and not just because they're Greek (now that's fucking hot)
• guys who push their way past you in line at the bar cry like I imagine they do when they get sent to prison for rape
• a steady procession of girls who would never let you buy them a drink because they're afraid that if they give you the time of day you won't have any choice but to stalk them, at which point the guy who pushed past you in line will have no choice but to break your nose and call you a scrawny, hairy fag.

I watched Are You Hot with my mouth wide open, drooling. I'd love to say that I was drooling over all the mad snatch -- which you could see once in a while, praise Jesus; on more than one occasion, the camera found the mound - but this drool was the type that would occur after asking a friend to hit you over the head with a coffee table. I can't believe this shit is on television. Who would pattern a show after what 21-year-old guys do on Friday nights?

"Fuck, man, would I ever fuck that shit."
"Yeah, dude, that is super fuckable."
"Man, if my fucking mom didn't take away my fucking credit card, I would totally call her."

That doesn't even qualify as an idea. It's instinct. It's sex. It's a living (sort of), breathing (if they don't forget) issue of Maxim, but with none of the subtlety or cleverness. Are You Hot is six-pack after six-pack, fake tit after fake tit. It's like my life would be if Iit's like what the world would be iffuck me. Think of it this way: could you imagine the Melvins opening up for Motley Crue? Do those bands even exist in the same world? No, and I don't know anyone who inhabits the Are You Hot planet. Who has the audacity to think they are the sexiest person in America? What kind of mental illness could lead to such a mammoth ego, such a ridiculous ambition?

Whatever deluded sickness it is, the judges on this show have it in spades. Hello, Lorenzo Lamas. Where've you been? Let me rephrase: where were you in the first place? I can understand how someone who looks like Fabio after bukkake would be in the position to judge someone's looks, but not with a fucking laser pointer. Yeah, it's degrading; yeah, it's bound to cause an explosion when it accidentally grazes your Vidal Sassoon Museum of a hairdo, but mostly because I don't want to see the contestants go chasing a laser dot all over the floor, knocking over plants and trying to climb the wall. I especially love the way you lean back in your chair and smile satisfactorily after giving a contestant a high mark. You look like an uncle who's watching his nephew happily run away after pulling a dollar out from behind his ear. Too bad you'll be calling that kid back in twenty minutes so he can sit on your lap while you watch V.I.P..




And you other two. Randolph whatever-your-last-name-is, I have no idea who you are, but as far as judges of looks go, you look the part -- shallow and unbelievably gay. I'd say you look a bit like Scott Thompson from Kids In the Hall, but I wouldn't want to be accused of gay-bashing him. I especially like the way all the girls built like pencils are your favourites: the ones with concave hips, the ones with shoulders could be used to slice meat in a deli, the ones who look -- well, holy shit -- exactly like little boys. I'll concede to a little superficiality here -- I don't particularly dig fat girls -- but I'll love a thousand chubby chicks before I go down on a girl whose legs are so thin that it feels like someone's beating on the side of my head with straws.

Rachel Hunter, I don't have a lot to say to you. At least I've heard of you. Didn't you used to be married to Rod Stewart? Didn't he once get a gallon of semen pumped out of his stomach? Man, any woman who drives her husband to gulp so much sperm that he has to get his fucking stomach pumped must have it goin' on! I'm going to keep watching Are You Hot until the night when you give someone a grade and finally turn to the other judges and say, "Alright. This has been bothering me for weeks. What's a seven?"

Would I hate Are You Hot if I was, in fact, hot? Yes, because despite what all the stereotypes say, not all hot people are retarded.

Special Ruthless Ratings:

• Ruthless Rating: If you're still curious as to what I think about this show, you might be hot!
• Quantify: A shapely, voluptuous 0