Men’s magazines bore the shit out of me, as I imagine they do most men who don’t breathe with their mouths. But just like smart women who religiously read Cosmo, they’re the first thing we pick up when anticipating a prolonged road trip or a particularly involved dump. Even then, with boredom bearing down hard on us, the pang of consumer regret is sharp and distinct. The tired one-two combo of tits and product remains the time-tested formula, whether it’s the sub-literate humor of Maxim or the dirty hipster aesthetic of GQ or Details that punctuate the sales pitch.
It’s a shame too, b/c if you can get past the condescension, both templates have some interesting moments. Maxim has one or two people there who can actually make the stupid news story/celeb meltdown photo caption genre funny (although there’s a million web sites that do it better now….and for free). And GQ and Vanity Fair will usually have at least one compelling piece of journalism per issue. But again, I can get that elsewhere nowadays - and I won’t have to put up with the horribly insulting "buy this hi-fi stereo and she just might maybe fuck you tonight" propaganda of a men’s mag. Look at an old 70’s or ’80’s Playboy, and you can’t help but laugh at the implicit connection they make b/w a bumping 8-track, a sweet butterfly-collared suit, and getting more muff than one guy can handle (Don’t worry, your laughing won’t be interrupted by arousal - unless you harbor nostalgia for the sprawling savagery of an untrimmed triangle. I don’t think I have that much hair on my head). But nowadays, of course, it’s the ever-changing digital product lines that get the modern gal moist - or so they’d have you think.
Which leads me to this awesome MSN article, 10 Things Every Single Man Must Own. MSN has never been good at the soft sell, or subtlety in any form, for that matter, but this one takes the cake. Wow. It basically tells you have to plunk down 2 grand to even get your dick in the door. I never knew that $200 espresso makers or 300 thread count sheets were the key to finding a soul mate or even just a fuck buddy, but shows what I know, huh? The author, ever helpful and ever shameless, even goes the extra step and lists brands and average prices. At least Maxim puts the product list and pricing on a separate page when they’re selling you the metrosexual dream life.* His breezy lack of self-awareness continues to the byline where, tongue nowhere near cheek, he confirms that he owns 9 of the 10 things listed. Thanks, chief! But why stop there? Why not show photographic evidence of all these possessions in your home, in use? You could be sipping a toasty espresso with one hand while the other one is occupied to the knuckles inside of a drugged out fashion model, your luxurious 300 count sheets draped over her bony shoulders.
(He takes a breath)
I don’t know why I’m so bitter. I have a wonderful girlfriend, and she still continues to hang around, despite the fact that I haven’t spent more than two dollars on a shirt in a year. I think it’s the combination of artlessness and pushy insistence that MSN brings to these inane how-you-should-be-living guides as they further obliterate the line between the editorial and advertising departments. I’m still waiting for the Why Haven’t You Bought This Shit Yet? article. As the economy continues to tank, the high priests of consumerism adopt a desperate, almost demanding tone. This toxic combo of arrogance and ignorance is the default ‘tude nowadays, in politics and in culture. The Wrongest are determined to be the Loudest, and ignoring them doesn’t seem to be an option.
*though Maxim would never cop to it being anything as fey as a metrosexual look, their case is mortally wounded by the fact that they sell their own gay-ass branded highlighting kit.
Back in May, 
