When grocery shopping it is inevitable to find yourself at the checkout line — unless you’re a thief that gets in and out with the quickness. At said checkout line, you are bombarded with magazines: tabloids, health, cooking and other. I group magazines like People and Disney Adventures in “other” because they don’t interest me. But every once in awhile, there is that one magazine that glows like a beacon, willing you to stare at it and take in its utter stupidity.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:
Cosmopolitan is adult version of Tiger Beat, if Tiger Beat focused on brow-beating women into having even lower self-esteem. From their airbrushed cover models (nothing new in the biz, as I just coined the magazine business) to the fluffy articles on makeup, interpersonal relationships and MEN!, Cosmo is the Carlos Mencia of pandering interchangeable creaky stereotypes to make you likable — damn that whole having a unique personality thing.
Anywho, the cover above makes me laugh for the same reasons that people somehow enjoy Jay Leno’s vacant brand of comedy. If you need a vapid magazine to teach you how to touch a naked man — and speaking for myself, I’m pretty easy — that you have somehow found yourself in his presence (I won’t ask on the account of any pending lawsuits you might have), perhaps you can find other resources to stare blankly at: books, friends, the internet, the local meter maid.
I don’t know who else could be buying these every month, but maybe they can give me 50 reasons why they want to have THE MOST MIND-BLOWING ORGASMS — IN BED!