Look around, amigo. The whole damn world is one big digital strip mall, and every storefront is flashing thighs, cleavage, and the kind of “Oops, did my shirt accidentally fall open?” poses that would make a Victorian faint and a Gen X kid shrug.

We already know the truth:

Nobody is trending because they’re demonstrating the proper way to sauté onions or fold a fitted sheet.

Nah. They’re trending because she’s in a bikini so thin it might as well be a government transparency policy…

or because she’s “stretching” in yoga pants made out of painted-on sin.

Sex sells because it always has — caveman brain, dopamine, survival, desire, all the primal circuits lighting up like Times Square with bad intentions.

And in a world where living is stupid expensive and the bills show up like uninvited cousins at Christmas…

people will do anything to stand out.

Which brings us to Saint Dirty Face™.

Maybe it’s time he throws on a leather bikini, cut-off shorts, and boots that scream “I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit.”

Why not?

If the world wants eye candy, give ‘em a cracked-halo snack with attitude.

Hell, let SDF pose like a divine thirst trap:

halo crooked, cigarette dangling, hips doing the Lord’s indignant work.

Because if sex sells…

then Saint Dirty Face is about to run a clearance sale on sin, sass, and survival.

Living ain’t free.

And dirty sells.