Angel In The Centerfold Chokehold

Celebrating A Deathday™: The original, raven-haired kitten with a whip and/or wire brush — Bettie Mae Page — yes, you may, my darlin', as often as you like — went to the great cathouse in the sky on this day, May 24, 2013. She was 85, which is to say 85-36-63. The pure-as-the-plow-driven-snow, plus-size pin-up was popular in an era when “tasteful, never tawdry” was the photographer’s credo. Unlike the filth found littering the roadsides of the vast and serpentine Misinformation Superhighway™, the girlie posters displayed in the army barracks and dormitories of Ms. Page’s era were neither objectionable nor exploitative. The depiction of fair-skinned milk maidens, smiling winsomely from the pages of True Detective™ magazine, were colorful, playful and always respectful. No nuditity, not on your life, sir! The slight suggestiveness in a model's exposed brassiere strap or faraway look in her eyes was enough to spur the imaginations of the pimply-faced boys and salt-petered military men, who professed unrequited love for Bettie in droves. When she was deemed “The Notorious Bettie Page” 'twas only for her adamant—notorious—refusal to bare so much as the back quarter panel of her gluteum maximus. Bravo, Citizen Sexy Lady! May you rest in peace. A tasteful one piece.