Flexible Helen Magazine
Oh well. So long, FHM, it's been real! Another nail in the coffin of print media. Wait? Is it the printed magazine? Are they carrying on with an online version of The World's Greatest Guide To What To Wear So You Look A Prat? I decided to go and double check my facts before I looked like a prat myself. Then I clicked on the link...
It's kinda hard typing the rest of this post - trying not to get vomit on my fingers as it occasionally splashes up from the hard-to-reach recesses on my keyboard. But for you, my most revered and adored readers - I will persevere. Unlike certain publications that should go under for glorifying that "chick" from that "band" Die fokken Antwoord. How is it that they get under my skin so effectively? Could be worse, I suppose...
But getting back to my point. Did I have one? Let's go with "everything is kak". (Not really.) FHM's demise is symptomatic of a shift in consumer, um, consumption. I always thought magazines were a bit expensive for what you got. My friend Pielkop had a "scratch-and-sniff" porn video once that came with a postcard that had little squares on it that you sniffed according the corresponding scene. It was a bit difficult to keep up if you were prone to fast forwarding to the "good parts" but it was at least value for money. Not so much with the multitude of rags available today. I fully understand that ad revenue is what drives income and therefore keeps a business afloat, but some have gone so far as to have virtually fuck-all content. Then you may as well have bought Heat. But ja, the internet has gotten rid of just about everything else worth having in real life, so why stop at print media? Perhaps everyone bouncing up and down in violent indignation at the genetically modified food they're forced to feed their toddlers should rethink downloading free torrents of movies and series and all the fucking music on the planet. The internet is, after all, only doing exactly that; providing a synthesized version of the real thing. Just because your guilt is assuaged at not paying for something doesn't make you any less culpable than that guy sticking a coat hanger down the window of your car.
Perhaps I'm too old fashioned. Perhaps I prefer things the way they have always been. If I dropped my book in the toilet, it could always be dried and hurriedly donated to the Rotary Club stall outside Checkers on Kloof. Not so much my millionty Rondt smart phone. I like the internet - don't get me wrong, but in far too many instances it is used not as a tool for enlightenment, but to dumb down the entire world's population. Well, those with fast enough connections.
The truth is I'm just sour grapes. A one-line opinion of mine was published in Playboy a while back and for love or money I couldn't find a physical copy. I was desperate to show my Mom that I'd finally hit the big time and that my 10 years of studying wasn't a complete waste.
It's silver lining time. Now, you don't have to stand in bank queues. And even if I dedicated every waking second of the rest of my life to finding the best porn available, I couldn't even get to 1% of it, never mind the really nasty stuff. Actually, now I'm depressed again...
To cheer myself up, I will once again channel Martha Stewart this evening as I host the usual suspects for Dinner Club. See, I am an adult! We drink good wine and eat well, all the while staring at each other in silence trying our best to think up topics other than the banned ones of politics and religion. Mostly it's suitable moans of "Ooooh, this is lovely! You've really improved since that time we had to order pizza!" or Rose Thorn complaining about work.
NGDG: If I learned from my mistakes I wouldn't say 'go on then' to cake.
Spread The Love. Pass The All Gold.