it was maybe early last autumn. the night was crisp, not yet dark. and there was a rapping on my door:
sir, good evening. I'm trying to amass points by selling magazine subscriptions... etc... etc... blah.
in truth, he spoke rather verbosely which contrasted to my very short attention span. so I'm not really sure who he represented directly. but you know what? I like to help. because I am quite the altruist.
so I decided to get a year's subscription to the Rolling Stone Magazine. I mean, I love music. and since I only listen to my silver iPod Nano these days, far from the stale airwaves of modern music, I figured it would be a phenom way to stay informed.
this was my first delivery.
Ok. hot new heartthrob, though not sure when tweens became the target audience. but what the heck.
this soon followed. and this. and this.
and yesterday I got this.
and a pattern emerged, friends. a very homo-erotic pattern with lots of sculpted skin.
so I went back to some of last year's covers, for prosperity's sake, and thus found this gem: who may or may not be a dude. regardless, (s)he is very popular in the gay community.
then I remembered exactly why I went into my underground iPod shelter in the first place: MTV's abuse on modern music. or, moreover: their lack of commitment to nurture music over the numbing wasteland that has become modern television aimed toward the vulturous teendom generation.
not that I so much mind men on the cover of a magazine, know you. rock & roll has always been about sex. and rock & roll has historically been male-dominated. but the evolution of the targeted audience does befuddle me: jesus christ: this is Rolling fucking Stone!
alas, pop culture has become a microcosm of the humdrum. but maybe next month's cover can be a true and darling compromise.
cheers.
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