In Which Rob Gets a Bad Case of the Creeps

After a hike yesterday, Kathy and I stopped in to a convenience store to -- well, to completely obliterate whatever health benefits we achieved by hiking. (Still, it's good for the soul, right?) But as I roamed the aisles for a snack, I noticed what will possibly be the most disturbing thing I'll see all month. (And this is likely the month we do our taxes, so that's saying something.) What caught my eye?

The Magazine Rack of the Damned.

It wasn't much of a magazine rack -- just a wire, free-standing job. And it had only three magazines on it: One issue of Penthouse and two copies of Seventeen magazine. Right next to each other.

And in this shady little store that seemed to do most of its business in lottery tickets, I had to wonder: How many of its customers were picking up both?

(Shudder.)

Rob

Honestly, I Just Got Tired of Looking At Mitt Romney's Smarmy Mug

There have been some comments over at the feminist comic blogs I read about this upcoming Playboy cover,


but not nearly the firestorm I expected to see when it was first brought to my attention. The objections seem to be more nuanced than to many similar things -- in some cases, the issue isn't about comparing the model to Wonder Woman as much as it it comparing her to Lynda Carter (as some interior copy does). The way I figure it, the image is appropriate for the venue, and I've got no real problem with it on those grounds.

But DC and Time Warner? They should have a problem with it. Playboy is making money off of their trademark, almost certainly without authorization. Yes, it could be considered a parody, and likely will be permitted under the First Amendment. But DC is obligated to protect its trademarks, and it really should act in this case. (There's a nice long discussion about this in the Beat's comment section.)

Anyway, Romney's gone, so mission accomplished.

UPDATE: As always, Val brings up some interesting points.

Rob

I'm Trying To Care, But I'm Afraid I Might Sprain Something

So earlier this week a Mildly Amusing Dinosaur of a Comics Magazine has announced (via cover blurb) that it will now be a Mildly Amusing Dinosaur of a "Pop Culture" Magazine for Men. And some fine folks who don't need that blurb to tell them what they already know--that, blurb or no blurb, it has the sense of humor of a dim Starfleet Academy fratboy--are jawing on and on about it. And I've tried to join the conversation a couple of times, but really just can't get into it.

Because--as Kalinara notes--this book is a Dinosaur. All of its primary functions have gone by the wayside, either through humor and opinion blogs, internet news sites or auction sites like eBay (who needs a price guide?). So it's left to grope around blindly in the jungle as more specialized mammals scamper out of reach of its tiny, useless arms.

It's a Dinosaur. It's closer to being oil than being relevant.

So it's hard to see what all the fuss is about.*

ETA: Here's a Wizard cover from last year:
Ship? Sailed. The only reason "men's magazine" is in this month's topline at all is because they didn't have a photo of a babe to tell us so herself.

Rob

*It's even harder to see how this change/rebranding is going to save their bacon. I love comics, but even I can see that the world at large is not clamoring for a comic-oriented Maxim. FHM's dead, Stuff became a subsection of Maxim -- and yet there's a market for Maxim with drawings of She-Hulk? Sure...hitch your wagon to that star, why don't you?

Man, everybody else gets all the good crack.