I really wish every fashion photographer didn’t wear an ascot and smoke French cigarettes through a gold monogrammed cigarette holder while the teenage Latin boy in the choke collar beside him pets a white tiger cub, because then maybe these pictures of the hottest piece on Earth in Interview magazine wouldn’t be the gayest thing I’ve seen all day. So she’s fondling a mannequin that looks like herself? I don’t get it. Is this supposed to be symbolic of something? It’s hard to think about fucking Megan Fox in the ass when you’re pretty sure that when the photographer was a kid he put ribbons in his dog’s hair and tried to molest the neighbor boy with a magic marker once.