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Kourtney Kardashian took her clothes off for V Magazine. This is apparently still news. The theory seems to be that you need to either die or get naked to stay in the conversation anymore, and she went with the second option.

I know who the Kardashians are because I was forced to watch their show at some point. You sit down thinking maybe it’ll be entertainingly bad, and you just feel stupider afterwards. But it sticks. The Kardashians become this permanent part of the landscape, like a billboard you drive past without thinking about it.

Kourtney’s always been the sensible one, the oldest, the one who seemed like she didn’t want to be there. I had this whole theory that she was just tolerating the family business. Maybe she still is. But here she is anyway, naked in a magazine, doing what everyone else does now. There’s an interview attached about her kids and makeup. That’s not why they took the pictures.

I stopped caring about it a while ago. It’s just the mechanics now—you trade your privacy for attention, your body for relevance, and nobody flinches anymore. Maybe it’s fine. Maybe I’m just tired of watching it happen.