Other People's Magazines

A neighbor of ours has been out of town, and asked us to pick up his mail while he was gone.

Among the bills and the circulars and letters have been several magazines.

Without compunction, I have shamelessly read the poor man’s magazines. Without guilt I have snooped into his periodicals. Here’s what I found out:

Entrepreneur

Apparently, in order for a male person to be featured among the success stories in this monthly magazine, he must allow his beard to grow for five to seven days before the photo session. Five to seven days, no more, no less.

Yogurt, or some inventive form of it, is big with these guys. Do you really want to be served a big old frozen yogurt in a unique granola cone by a guy who couldn’t bother to shave for almost a week?

Beats me, but the magazine says these guys have a fantastic bottom line. Yogurt. I guess I eat yogurt sometimes, but its potential as a merchandising substance just hadn’t occurred to me. Yogurt. Must be millions to be made from yogurt.

Moving on, however, there’s a really gut-wrenching story in the October edition of Entrepreneur.

The front-page teaser says, “After 15 years as a traveling salesman, Joe Grubb discovered his true calling: Offering reliable home care to ailing seniors.”

Sounds like this is going to be a heart-warming story, right? Maybe Joe had a Grampa who was elderly and ill, and Joe thought there ought to be some way to help the old fellow and others like him.

Maybe Joe’s heartstrings got tugged by the realities of life and aging, and Joe became a servant to the elderly. He could do something good while making a living. What an altruistic idea!

Well, no. Joe saw aging as a marketing possibility, as a merchandising device, much the same as other entrepreneurs see yogurt.

Joe bought a franchise, and Entrepreneur tells the blow-by-blow story of Joe’s bottom line, which is pretty impressive – if money’s everything.

Joe didn’t even invent the franchise. He didn’t even think of it himself. He just bought a share in it. Joe didn’t really care at all about his old Grampa. He was just tired of being a salesman and not making as much money as he thought he should.

Joe, by the way, did shave for the photo session.

Steven Villegas was different. Steven’s niche is a line of skirts to be worn by men. To prepare for the story and photo about him, Steven shaved his legs. But not his face. His chin and cheeks remain fashionably stubbly.

Steven sells “man skirts.” Are you in the market?

I’ll be sure to return the copies of Entrepreneur to my neighbor when he gets home.

Air & Space

My neighbor also unknowingly loaned me a couple of copies of “Smithsonian Air & Space.”

Now here’s a magazine. Anybody wants to make me a special Christmas gift, this would be it. Hint hint. You don’t even have to have a pilot’s license to be a subscriber.

There’s a detailed story with excellent photographs about “Rare Bear,” an extremely modified P-51 Mustang used in piston-engine air racing. The Reno event. The plane is an original Bearcat no part of which remains from the original.

Riveting reading. Pun intended.

But there’s more. A finely detailed historical story tells how scientist Harvey Allen and others discovered in the late 1950’s that vehicles re-entering the atmosphere after being in space must be blunt on the nose – not pointed.

There’s a story about German rocket scientist Wernher Von Braun and a staff of military men who moved into a small Nebraska town right after World War Two to study low-level air currents. True story, priceless history about the beginnings of the U.S. space program.

There’s a story about the Beech Staggerwing, an airplane built beginning in the 1930’s which has a cult following to this day. This story held my interest from start to finish.

As a matter of fact, when we had breakfast at The Barnstormer Café at the airport east of Greeley this past Sunday, a Staggerwing landed there. I was able to identify the craft because I had read about it in Air & Space. Fun!

There’s a story about how scientists are succeeding at making fighter and bomber aircraft invisible to enemy radar. From the magazine, it seems this idea from science fiction may likely come true in some way.

There are numerous shorter articles which flesh out the magazine. I read everything in the whole publication. It was fun to read, and the information was useful.

Can’t say enough about Air & Space, a stellar publication. Soon enough, my neighbor will return to pick up his own mail. Hint hint.

Playboy

I, as a savvy, virile young American male, personally purchased and devoured every monthly copy of Playboy from 1960 through 1970.

So I can vouch for the fact that this puerile publication was always aimed at a testosterone-flooded core group of readers who are 13 and 14 years old. It still is.

Hugh Hefner, the pathetic aging lothario who founded the mag, is predominantly featured photographically throughout the October, 2009, issue.

He poses with lots of young women. But missing are any new installments of “The Playboy Philosophy.” It’s probably just as well. Hef always was intellectually vacuous.

Perhaps it’s just because of my waning testosterone levels, but it might be that I’ve grown as well as matured.

Because it’s October, the magazine has published its annual vampire-themed photos. Two naked women wearing false teeth (fangs) are depicted rolling around on each other.

Yawn.

Country music icon Tim McGraw has a full-page ad in there promoting his new line of fragrances for men.

Yawn.

We’re supposed to buy into the idea that actor Woody Harrelson (“Cheers”) has something intelligent to convey in his Playboy Interview.

Yawn.

We’re supposed to listen to Playboy’s authoritative advice about how many buttons to fasten on our dress shirt cuffs – expert fashion advice published right alongside expert technical advice about sexual performance.

Again, Yawn.

Playboy is brimful of advertising pushing tobacco and alcoholic drink products, Japanese cars, and even sports.

We were supposed to enjoy a definitive story about the Oakland Raiders football brutes and how drunk, debased, violent, cruel and “bad” they were in the 1970’s.

Yawn.

Did I write earlier about how I actually paid for this crap every month for ten years? I bought at least 120 copies of Playboy. What was I thinking?

There was nothing titillating in the whole thing. Nothing. Naked breasts. Carefully trimmed pubic hair. Revealing poses. Careful photograph touchup.

Very sterile. Yawn.

So much for other people’s magazines. When my neighbor returns, I’ll have to go back to paying for my own periodical reading matter – “Hot Rod,” “This Old Truck,” “Hemmings Muscle Car.”

-0-

Word of the week: Fustigate. Latin. Fustigares. To beat with a stick. To cudgel. I think I must have fustigated Playboy. (“Playboy?” What was I thinking?)

Next week’s word: Charism.

(Wish to comment? Do you disagree? To share your thoughts on the blog, look immediately below, click on “comments” and follow the instructions.)