Tuesday, March 01, 2005

If You Can’t Stand the Heat…

As a pop culture junkie, I frequently like to gawp in horror at the racks of magazines in local newsagents, just to get a feel for the sort of stuff clogging up the shelves and choking the mental pathways of the vulnerable, the impressionable and the stoopid.

It’s a car crash of garish colours, screeching fonts and bad grammar. And lots of extraneous exclamation marks!!!!!!!!!!! Trying to whip you into a frenzy about! Absolutely!! Nothing!!!

Airbrushed breasts and photoshopped faces, homogenised to remove every facial blemish, every character line and anything resembling original thought or stimulating language. It’s just literary carrion stinking up the place with the stench of rotting ideas and fetid concepts. Pages of creatively-bankrupt content existing solely to prop up pages of adverts to help you attain that hollow, aspirational lifestyle that won’t make you any happier, younger, thinner, prettier, hunkier, smarter or cooler. But it WILL make you a whole lot more broke. And it will help you become a photocopy of everyone else as individuality is stomped on with diamond-encrusted designer boots.

What did I find? Lots of crap. Film and music mags hawking films and music that don’t need the promotional push, with genuine critical journalism a distant memory and an outmoded concept. Hideous clotheshorse magazines the size of phone books, a third of their page count bloated with ads. Little shitty flyers that float onto the floor the minute you pick anything up. News magazines that set the current affairs agenda in a way that is blatantly prejudicial and wafer-thin on substance and not a true reflection of the world’s landscape. Bet you haven’t heard much about the aftermath of the tsunami recently, have you? I guess that story “didn’t have enough legs”. Not “sexy” enough. Here, look at a picture of Cruz Beckham instead. There, choke on that news, morons. But the worst, to my mind, is “celebrity news” magazines. Like this one:

(Note for people with irony deficiency – this isn’t a real magazine. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. And I ain’t about to indulge in free advertising for corporate cocksmokers. And I know it’s an easy target, but I gotta get my cheap laughs somewhere.)

SHINY HAPPY PEOPLE – In this week’s edition of the celebrity magazine:

A reality TV contestant (whose name you will have forgotten about six weeks from now) in a blurry photo showing him coming out of the supermarket with sweat stains on his T-shirt. See! These people are EXACTLY LIKE YOU! (But feel free to sneer in a superior way. Hell, that’s what we’re here for.)

Now, pierce your navel, join a gym, buy one of those too-small t-shirts with your name in sequins across the front of it and YOU TOO can be as vacuous and dull as Britney!

FAMOUS ARSES! Yes, compare the pert buttocks of those soap stars with their faces! No, I can’t tell the difference either!

FASHION FOR THE FICK! Gaze at the ugly, expensive clothes found on red carpets all over the world! Here, Miss. Celebrity Shitwit is modelling an ensemble made entirely from pigs innards, painted with tar and speckled with shell casings from the streets of Iraq! And look in shock and awe at the Double-Breasted Guantanamo Jump Suit, replete with 24-carat gold leg cuffs to complement this orange classic. Designed to give you a life of wear and tear and inhumane suffering. Guaranteed to be unconstitutionally sound, or your money back!

PLUS! This week’s slice of life stories: “My tumour shot out of my mouth!” and “I went to the loo – and had a surprise baby boy!”

(I have a confession to make. That last bit? Those two stories are real. You can’t make this shit up. Not all of it anyway.)


B emused said...

Apparently your magazine is popular with Kurdish bloggers who vote in Glasgow.

That ought to screw up the sales demographic.

AKA said...

You know, you really don't see enough hard-hitting tumour-spitting reportage these days...

Matt DC said...

A doctor friend of mine claims he once removed a tumour the size of a football. Apparently they actually had a post-op kickabout using the aforementioned tumour and a waste bin turned on its side. Lovely.

I mention this because today I finally resigned from Patronising Overlords plc. Which is a little like having a cancerous growth removed, when you think about it.

AKA said...

Congratulations to you, MDC! Incredibly liberating, isn't it?

mdc said...

Like you wouldn't believe. I am immensely looking forward to coasting through the next month.

Although it must be said both my motivation and productivity have virtually ground to a halt over the past couple of days. I'm going to enjoy this...