Thursday, June 18, 2009

Periodically














One of the perks of being employed by the American system of French bibliothèques is the magazine selection. Instead of shelling out a few quid for a year's subscription to Pretending You're An Intellectual Monthly, I can simply peruse our copy, cut out the pictures of scantily-clad ladies, and save my not-really-earned scratch for more booze paying bills.

Of course, libraries cannot subscribe to all the magazines in the world, for that would require pallets of greenbacks and we lost most of ours scarfing down corn dogs and guzzling poisoned Pepsi while avoiding electrocution and/or swarms of IEDs while on vacation at Saddam's Sunni World. Half off with an annual KBR Green Zone Fun Pass! So many memories.


















Of course, of course, and no one can talk to a horse of course, that is, of course, we subscribe to some of these all magazines chez moi, sometimes via nameless benefactor. For lo, and perhaps, behold, many moons ago, last autumn I believe, I started receiving Rolling Stone. Don't know why, but if I wanted to read a collection of three-star reviews (five-star, if it's a new album of Dylan farting or some blathering U2 stadium rock crap) on hipster shit, I could instead simply descend to the basement and set myself on fire.


















Back in the late 1980s before the advent of the internets as we know them -- shut up Usenut nuts, I don't care -- we, that is, me, used to get Electronic Gaming Monthly. Then I stopped for a bit when I had no loot. Then I got hitched and had a kid. Then I needed more loot. So I got a job which paid more loot. Which I spent on those cash vacuums, but I kept a small stash to resubscribe to EGM. For some reason, likely because she wrote out the check, the subscription was in the name of my sometimes-better-half. She's geeky, too. One of the reasons we haven't stabbed each other to death, I suppose.

Anyway, to make a long story even longer -- don't worry, cleavage is on the way -- she let the subscription lapse because all the video gaming news was found more quickly (and more cheaply) on the internets (thank you grownup Usenut nuts). That still doesn't mean I don't harbor a searing hatred for Kindle. Lo, and behold a second time, yesterday my sometimes-better-half began receiving a new title, ostensibly paid for by the remaining amount of the subscription to EGM (which lapsed a few years ago) at least according to the sticker affixed to the cover. Oooh, a mystery.


















One I cannot solve because, after I'm done ogling scantily-clad Jennifer Love Hewitt, I have to set myself on fire after offending all good sense by reading some of their edgy articleing on How To Be A Douchebag, But A Cool Douchebag. Forgive me, Cthulhu. Bonus points for the piece on National Lampoon's Vacation, though. I'll only use lighter fluid instead of rocket fuel. Less explodey.

The above is assuming, of course, that this isn't a devious plot cooked up by my sometimes-better-half to catch me ogling scantily-clad ladies in print media. I'm not that paranoid. I mean, I only buy 44% of the Roswell coverup and 68% of the JFK.

Keep watching slightly less than one half of the skies!

20 comments:

Christopher said...

Please don't tell me that neat and orderly room is your house?

All of our magazines are tossed in various stacks on the floor, on the coffee table and under the side tables.

I vowed this year to stop subscribing to periodicals I don't get around to reading.

Dean Wormer said...

Maxim. For the articles. Right.

Dusty said...

Maxim has articles? Who knew?

okjimm said...

//ogling scantily-clad ladies in print media. //

Dude! Forget Magazines! It's Summer!!! I just go to the park by the University and oogle scantily clad co-eds on roller blades! Higher education is a benefit in and of itself!

Bubs said...

Don't forget the no overdue fines part for employees!

sunshine said...

Do you tell everyone to "SHUSH!!" while you're ogling scantily-clad ladies?
((Hugs))
Laura

Randal Graves said...

christopher, with two kids? Hell no. I'm much more OCD about crap than the rest of the hovel, but yikes.

dean, oh, it's a terrible magazine. The writing tries too hard to be clever and hell, scantily-clad babes? That's what The Google is for.

dusty, and less skin that I had assumed.

okjimm, but then I have to get off my comfy couch.

bubs, damn right!

sunshine, I tell everyone to shush all the time, but especially when doing that.

Utah Savage said...

Does anyone tell you your drooling like a bulldog while your oggling scantily clad girls in girly mags like Maxim?

Scarlet W. Blue said...

Ha, you're cracking me up, and it's not the cheap wine on an empty stomach.

Randal Graves said...

utah, you honestly don't think that after nearly four decades on this planet that I haven't learned to be a discrete objectifier?

SWB, please, I heartily recommend stopping by starving and drunk. Objects on screen may seem funnier than they appear!

Dr. Zaius said...

Hey! I read Pretending You're An Intellectual Monthly too! But only for the the ladies underwear ads in the back. And Letters to the Editor's page, of course.

Kindle is ridiculous. The posts aren't dated, and there is no place to leave comments!

Tom Harper said...

Your post brought back some halcyon memories of my favorite magazine article: "How To Be A Douchebag, But A Cool Douchebag." That article changed my life.

The Cunning Runt said...

I don't look at women's tits anymore.

'Course, I don't look at them any less, either...

S.W. anderson said...

Randal, could it be that your better half arranged for the new mag hoping to — how to put this diplomatically? — spur certain lustful appetites?

Or, she might be hoping to distract you from your preoccupation with going to the basement to set yourself on fire — something more easily accomplished, BTW, in the back yard, while snockered and trying to get a charcoal grill going.

Ricky Shambles said...

I think I read Maxim leading up to college...and then realized most of the douchebags I knew kept it in their bathroom because they didn't have the balls to leave copies of Hustler on the tank. And now I'm married...and porn and bad writing is free on the internet.

I'd almost forgotten about EGM! With a GameStop card, however, I now get GameInformer on a monthly basis, with juicy exclusives often not yet found on the internets.

As today's going to be ball-sweat hot, I believe my oogling will be at the computer for the boobs, the TV for the video games. I'll mumble something in bad French in your honor.

Übermilf said...

Does Maxim have ad inserts for Axe body spray with scent strips on them?

I'm betting "yes."

Randal Graves said...

dr.zaius, the LTE page is alright, but when they come out with their Annual Index issue, party time.

No comments? See, Kindle is just like Powerline, the contents of a septic tank.

tom, I feel a jingle coming on. I'd like to teach the world to be a douchebag!

TCR, ha! I mean, gasp!

SWA, a sound theory until one realizes that that means my sometimes-better-half wants to have marital relations with yours truly. She may be nuts, but I think she's regaining her sense of taste.

No charcoal grilling or the setting of flesh on fire today, it's raining!

ricky, exactly, why pay for stuff you can get for free?

My brother-in-law has that deal, too. Actually not a bad print mag. And that's right, you're down south, you guys will be breaking 90°, no?

übermilf, I can't recall if it was that brand, but there was something smelly. I hope I don't turn into a chocolate man. The humidity would have me melting all over the keyboard.

Beach Bum said...

I just read my wife's Cosmo. They talk more about sex than Maxim.

Non Je Ne Regrette Rien said...

funny, I like reading men's mags for that same reason BB. I mean, I already know all the chick stuff I need to know, right? let's snoop on the other half.

rg-you also get the scent of books for free too, you dirty rat.

Randal Graves said...

BB, that's the smuttiest magazine sans photos this side of the braille version of Penthouse Letters.

JNRR, but the groovy dudes are douchebags. And why the fuck would I want to smell like a goddamn cocktail party?