Two words: horror movies. I was watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre a few days ago. The gal with skimpy clothes does seem to have some resemblance with the ghost-like thingie that goes around killing people with his chainsaw. Actually,I take that back. No, no. That's not true at all. Comparing the skimpily clad damsel with the ghost-like thingie is an insult to the ghostlike thingie. So let us make a better comparison. In every formula-based horror movie, there is a slut, an eye-candy, if you prefer, whose function it is to run around in her birthday suit in a drunken haze, and get her jollies off, and have sex with multiple men, all of whose libido has been filled to the brim, all due to the agoraphobic nature of the movie, which, as I said, is of the generic sort. There is but a difference. While the movies choose women who in essence have the looks to freeze the hombre at the very spot he is standing due to her cherubic face--a medusa of sorts if you prefer--, the girls of the ANA convention are so homely that staring at these women has the opposite effect: you want to put on your best athletic shoes--the most expensive one if possible--and run like you have never run before. Therein lies the difference. The essence of my argument is that dressing up elegantly is an art, which these women have not been taught, it seems. One thing is obvious: they haven't been in America for too long. But oh well, in retrospect, all my complaints were but in vain. As long as the "damsels" (the better word would have been harpies, but oh well) don't open their mouths and utter the ghastliest curry-accented one-liners possible, they can still attract Nepalese men, who, due to their own low self-esteem and godawful insecurities and what have you, are willing to have sex with anything that moves, yes, probably even a goat. Go ahead, I'm not going to stand in the way.