Washington • Oh no! I, a Reasonable Man, am devastated to learn there is no longer a swimsuit portion in the Miss America competition! And the evening-wear portion is now whatever the contestants want to wear, which could be anything at all, and which might be a bulky and functional tarpaulin that would delight my eyes not one whit!

This is egregious! If there is no bathing-suit competition, when can I hope to judge women on their appearance, except on dating apps,

or when they appear on television to talk about the lifesaving surgery they just performed on a pair of conjoined twins,

or when they are serving me at a Hooters restaurant,

or a regular restaurant,

or when they’re bringing me a cup of cranberry-apple juice on an airplane,

or when they are applying for a job,

or when I am reading their scholarly research articles online and there isn’t even a picture so I have to Google the name and cannot even be sure that the appearance of the person I am criticizing is the relevant person,

or when they make a YouTube video,

or when a man does something awful to them and they appear in court to testify about it,

or when they are running for office,

or when they are on television telling me the weather,

or when they are trying to ask a question during a news conference,

or when they are representing the country at the Olympics,

or when they are walking in front of me on the sidewalk,

or when they are my colleague,

or when I am suggesting that they reallocate their sexual resources in a rational manner (I suggest this completely dispassionately with no self-interest whatsoever, and I have devised a complex numerical system),

or when they perform music on national television,

or when they are engaging in activism to end gun violence,

or when they are the first lady or the former first lady,

or when they are in a Star Wars movie and I didn’t like the Star Wars movie,

or when they are on the receiving end of sexual advances from the president,

or when they work for the president,

or when they work against the president,

or when they appear on the cover of magazines,

or when they write something and put it online and I had to squint at the avatar which was one inch by one inch and conclude, from this highly pixelated monstrosity, that I Would Not Bang,

or when they are on the radio, which takes real effort,

or when they wrote a novel in the 18th century,

or when they are a character in an ongoing fantasy epic,

or when someone wants to put them on currency,

or on Thursdays?

Except for these scant few contexts, I will have nothing! The swimsuit contest must be saved.

Already, this has gone too far.

Alexandra Petri | The Washington Post

Alexandra Petri writes the ComPost blog, offering a lighter take on the news and opinions of the day. She is the author of “A Field Guide to Awkward Silences.” @petridishes