Success Story

The West has always shaped the year’s recurrences with a pattern of festivals and holy days. According to Frazer, a golden bough was the key to one system of such feasts. But the silver mirror of TV is the magically glowing maypole around which our feasts and observances revolve today. And one of the strangest god- desess to be worshiped yearly in this sacred precinct is Miss America.

At first glance this seems to be, under new guise, the ancient worship of Venus. From the line of girls in bathing suits, all smiling the same smile, one is chosen who especially represents the goddess. But the goddess is not Venus. Like many of Frazer’s feasts, this one has been deepened in meaning by the devotion it calls forth every year. The young, innocent girl has become a profoundly meaningful symbol of America, and an embodiment of our own bitch goddess—Success. This festival began as a simple beauty contest, a frank excuse for ogling. There was once a stock magazine cartoon which ridiculed the fat and balding judges’ pose of scientific objectivity. But as the rite grew, it became respectable.

The West has always shaped the year’s recurrences with a pattern of festivals and holy days. According to Frazer, a golden bough was the key to one system of such feasts. But the silver mirror of TV is the magically glowing maypole around which our feasts and observances revolve today. And one of the strangest god- desess to be worshiped yearly in this sacred precinct is Miss America.

At first glance this seems to be, under new guise, the ancient worship of Venus. From the line of girls in bathing suits, all smiling the same smile, one is chosen who especially represents the goddess. But the goddess is not Venus. Like many of Frazer’s feasts, this one has been deepened in meaning by the devotion it calls forth every year. The young, innocent girl has become a profoundly meaningful symbol of America, and an embodiment of our own bitch goddess—Success. This festival began as a simple beauty contest, a frank excuse for ogling. There was once a stock magazine cartoon which ridiculed the fat and balding judges’ pose of scientific objectivity. But as the rite grew, it became respectable.