I do not know who this is, but whoever she is, she deserves an award for being that person. A throbbing, veiny award.

Throughout the recent election cycle, we heard a lot of debate about unemployment, tax cuts, and masturbating witches. Know what no one bothered to bring up? The shrinking marketplace for perverts with cameras.

Seriously, Taylor... Halloween is over, you can take it down a notch. Or take it up a few notches, and Charlie Sheen will lock you in a bathroom. Either way is good with me.

As little as twenty years ago, if you wanted a grainy, out-of-focus photo of a half-naked girl you didn’t know, you had to work for it. There was the planning, the equipment, the stakeouts at Forever 21, the bribes for mall security, the photography lessons at the Learning Annex that earned you both an Honorable Mention and your first restraining order… in short, it was a tough, rewarding job for men born with a rare mix of intense determination, copious free time, and erectile dysfunction. Being a real creep in those days called for hardy souls who approached the quest for solitary sexual gratification with all the professionalism of Taylor Momsen at a convention for Teen Zombie Prostitutes.

But now? Tch. The combination of mobile phone cameras and floor-length mirror technology has completely distorted the entire business. Chicks everywhere are defying tradition, cutting out the middle-man, and creating their own content.

And that content is itself a mixed bag. Sure, we’re seeing better poses, more smiles, and fewer ass-zits than in the old days, but something fundamental has been lost. Where’s the magic of those truly candid shots of yore, where a slightly chubby chick in panties a size too small indelicately picks a wad of nylon out of her butt? Where is the spontaneity of half-shaved legs and random tampon strings? Today’s stuff just isn’t the same:

This is Tonya Nerilie, @tonyaax3 on Twitter. And I love her. Not in the cheap, tawdry way I've loved other women and the occasional slow-moving sheep; this is real. We're like Romeo & Juliet, if Juliet rocked a perfect bikini and Romeo got fired from Taco Bell for getting high and eating all the chalupas.

Consider yourself warned, America: keep an eye on the beautiful women. While you were fretting over illegal immigration, another group of bronze-skinned, hard-working people who speak a foreign language (What the fuck’s a “Manolo Blahnik”? Does it come with cilantro?) was out there, taking our jobs. And unlike Mexicans, you can’t just build a wall around them to control their movements… the judge in my case was very clear about that.