Is there anything funnier than a story that you think is going to be raunchy, but turns out clean? Here’s one I heard from my dear old mom while I was still in middle school. The story goes that a businessman took a trip to New York City and took along his middle school-aged daughter. He took her to dinner at a nightclub where he discovered, to his enormous chagrin, that one of the featured acts was a stripper. The story goes that when the featured entertainer had gotten down to three strategically placed, multicolored ribbons, the businessman’s daughter nudged him and said, “Hey, Dad. Look! Our school colors!”
I was reminded of Mom’s story recently while watching a commercial that featured a father trying to placate a crying baby boy. Dad gets on the Internet and brings up a photo of Elle McPherson modeling swimwear, as is her specialty. As I watched, I could well imagine howls of outrage from feminists appalled at the idea of exposing a very young boy to such a sight.
The commercial’s plot twist came at the end when Elle McPherson appears, picks the kidster up, smooches him and announces that he’s such a good boy.
To everyone else, Elle McPherson might be a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue superstar, but to that kid, he was Mom.