Scarlett Was Robbed and I Will Die on This Hill

Every year Maxim publishes its Hot 100 and every year I pay exactly the amount of attention to it that I’ve promised myself I won’t. The list isn’t designed for me. The list isn’t designed for anyone who thinks too hard about anything. And yet here I am, annual participant in my own humiliation, scanning the rankings for the name I know has to be at the top.

It wasn’t. Candice Swanepoel took the number one spot, which means—and I need you to sit with this—Scarlett Johansson finished second. Behind Candice Swanepoel. Scarlett Johansson, the great love of my entirely one-sided life, walked away with silver. The injustice of this is so complete, so fundamental, that I don’t even have the vocabulary for it. Candice Swanepoel is beautiful. Fine. Nobody’s arguing. But we’re talking about Scarlett Johansson.

The rest of the top ten: Katy Perry, Irina Shayk, Jennifer Lawrence, Zooey Deschanel, Alessandra Ambrosio, Jessica Alba, Mila Kunis, Cara Delevingne. Filed and forgotten, because none of it changes the eternal truth that Scarlett gets gold, silver, bronze, and every other medal in my personal ranking system, in perpetuity, regardless of what any magazine says. She doesn’t need Maxim’s endorsement. Neither do I. I’m just furious anyway.