People Magazine recently crowned Chris Hemsworth the “Sexiest Man Alive.” I can’t deny that the magazine is hitting nearer the mark than usual. But ‘sexiest alive’? That’s a pretty sweeping statement.
He was alive last year, right? What was wrong with him then?
Adam Levine was last years Sexiest Man Alive, and though he was rumoured to be dead, he is still alive and making generic pop music. What’s wrong with him now?
In fact, if you peruse the list of Sexiest Men Alive from 1985 to 2013, you’ll see that darn near all of them are still alive. What happened? Did they gain weight? Get a bad haircut? Publicly announce that they hate kittens? It doesn’t matter. They’ve lost their mojo. They’ve lost their crown. What a demotion that must be. One day you are the sexiest man in the world, the next… pfft. You’re just a guy on the street.
Exactly how do they decide anyway? Do they fill out questionnaires? Have a swimsuit contest? Compare bank statements? I don’t follow their logic.
I propose a sensible solution to both quandaries. Kill the old sexiest man and instate a new one. Decide by good, old fashioned duel. The winner takes the title, and the loser is the Sexiest Man Dead. Imagine the spectacle, the press coverage, the wailing of women.
Oh wait! I have a better plan. The newly crowned Sexiest Man Alive goes into hiding, and all eligible candidates have a year to hunt him down and assassinate him. Winner takes all.
That sounds like the Hunger Games, you say?
We’ll call it… the Handsome Games.