Marilyn Monroe came along in those fidgety ‘fiftes and altered the whole set up. There was something genuine about her, and really pathetic, as if she were all too human to exercise the great craft of queening it for the tradition. We know what finally happened to her. Maybe she was the last ‘goddess’ actually seeming to be made out of flesh rather than foamrubber: something to be slept *with*, not *on*. And that was probably her fatal mistake. Goddesses are to be slept *about*.
by Parker Tyler, “The Awful Fate of the Sex Goddess”