So I felt a real void when Radar Magazine was canceled. I loved Radar. It was my favorite magazine ever. To really twist the knife, it's now become "radaronline.com" and gone from real Dadaist clever commentary to just another stupid sensationalistic celebrity exploiting tool. Which Radar could be sensationalistic at times, but always very cleverly. Now gone forever, and Perez Hilton...? Still here.
I've had a Playboy subscription for 10 years. It was the third thing I did when I got my own place. 1) Brought a recliner in 2) made some time with my girlfriend on it 3) Filled out the subscription card while sitting in the chair with her on my lap. That was a good day, and every month when Playboy arrives, it carries a little bit of that day with it.
I've gone to bat for Playboy a bunch of times. It's not about naked pictures; if you're buying Playboy for the naked pictures, you're fucking up. There's not that many naked pictures in there. If you want to read interviews that actually give insight into the subject, you should read Playboy. The only worthy interview of John Lennon was for Playboy. If you like to read short fiction you should read Playboy. Fahrenheit 451 was first published in Playboy. Playboy's for the In Crowd. It's hip. It's Jazz. It's not some dork beating off in a closet. Or it shouldn't be.
But next month, Playboy's gonna be all about Spencer and Hedi.
A couple months ago, it had the dude from Knocked Up on the cover. On The Cover. This guy:
If you look at pictures of Hef doing stuff at the Playboy Mansion in the sixties, you're not looking at some dirtbag. You're not looking at a douchebag. You're looking at a guy who has the cat by the ass. He's smart, he's quick, he dresses well, he's well-read, he appreciates fine things, and that includes women. Who he loves, and love him in return.
But there's not that much bread in that these days, and Playboy's not selling too hot. So it's turning into Maxim, I guess.
So I got a subscription to GQ.
I like to look sharp, I feel like I'm in the minority of men who care how they project themselves to the world through their appearance. I thumbed through an issue that had the dude from Mad Men on the cover. That guy's a Real Man. or he plays one on TV. There were a bunch of ads for things I will never be able to afford or would buy if I could. 500 bucks is too much for a pair of shoes. You can't tell Stacy Adams from Dolce Gabbana looking down from six feet. And Stacy's are more my speed anyway; Style Over Fashion.
But I'm missing Radar, and I'm standing in a looong line at Wal-Mart with a bottle of fancy orange juice under my arm, flipping through GQ. I look ahead of me. There's one of any billion fat women in sweatpants pushing a cart full of junk food. I glance behind me, and there's a dirty, smelly dude dressed in full hunting gear at 1 AM.
So I bought GQ, and more than that I paid 10 bucks and got a subscription. I'd pay another 10 bucks to stop it, because so far I've gotten magazines with Zack Effron, Justin Timberlake, and then, today, Sacha Baron Cohen as Boris, naked and posing like a woman. I don't want to be seen reading this shit. Why is this what "Gentlemen Quarterly" is about?
How did we come to this, Modern World?