I’ve spent a lot of time in waiting rooms lately, and I’ve decided I should have my own magazine. I could do just as good as Martha Stewart or Oprah. They don’t do the whole thing themselves — they just come up with the ideas, and then they have people who make it happen, right? I can do that.
It could be called M Magazine. (I thought about calling it Marie, but maybe Marie Claire would get mad.) Every issue would have a bunch of advice columns, and not just about the obvious stuff, like “You should always balance your checkbook” or “You need to confront your husband about his gambling addiction.” I mean, duh, thanks, Mr. Obvious, L.C.S.W.
No, my magazine would have advice on stuff no one ever talks about, like what to say when your mechanic charges you $35 for some engine additive that doesn’t do anything, or the best way to get those disgusting little lint boogers off a new sweater.
I would have a couple really great photo spreads with famous people in great clothes, with a long article full of interesting details about their lives. No articles about the secret blah blah Pentagon blah Dalai Lama Something Something blah. Also, no photos of people who work in the government. Boring!
And the best part? I would have actual, reliable reviews of all the stuff that Consumer Reports thinks is too foofy — like which liquid hand soaps make you smell like an old lady’s bathrobe, and which workout pants fit well enough to actually stay up.
I would also have a chart on the back page, where you could go and look at all the medical advice for and against something, so you can decide once and for all what you want to do. Because every time I pick up a magazine, one page is all about the benefits of drinking wine, and ten pages later, it’s like, “Cut back on your booze! Exercise vigorously for cardio health! Or moderately if you don’t want to blow out both knees by your 45th birthday! Exfoliate regularly to avoid breakouts! Or never!”
Magazines, seriously? Make up your minds. Or feel the wrath of “M.”Read More