Subscribe. Because apparently the internet doesn’t exist.
[I've found a few things I never posted/finished prior to my recent disappearance. I'll slap up whatever ones are semi-intelligible. This is one of those.]
Maxim, which apparently still exists (says the obscure blogboy about a successful media company) – wait, hold on… okay – slackjawed interlude:
Through the power of Google – the CIA’s deposit box for all the creepy shit you do – I just found out that a print edition of Maxim Magazine still exists. This means that a staff of human beings are, in the year of our e-Lord 2012, doing page layouts and the like for the purpose of having words and images physically printed… onto actual paper… with actual ink… and packaged… and shipped… and delivered… and paid for with money… by actual people. Who/what/how is this possible? Sure, it’s great for Maxim, and for the people this bewildering process provides income for, but who are the unplugged PG13 perverts on the receiving end of “men’s interest” print media as we wind down the two-thousand-and-twelfth year since Mary’s magic vagina birthed the most famous dude to die and rise again that doesn’t play bass for Motley Crue? It was funny in 2001 when Jason Mewes asked, “What the fuck is the internet?” – the joke, of course, being the question itself. I mean, Motley Crucified Christ, Kip Dynamite was scoring chicks online in rural Idaho in 2004. And you’re telling me there’s enough demand for airbrushed photos of female celebrities not showing their tits and lady-holes to justify the cost of production and distribution of a physical magazine featuring this pseudo-smut? Spare yourself the scent of whatever toxic cologne insert they’re mashing between the pages this month and just go to fucking YouJizz, man.
Now what was this post supposed to be about?
Oh. Maxim’s article on Bill Burr. Maxim, to its credit, recently ran an interview with Bill Burr. Bill Burr is a standup comedian that you should pay money to go see because he is genuinely fucking funny. The interview was fine – short, to the point, and not obnoxious or try-hard on the interviewer’s part. Except for the abominable subheading that outweighs the inoffensiveness of the whole rest of the article:
I hate when people repeat letters for effect on the internet… but… just fucking uuuuugh.
“The cult comic rants on with his pants on. At least, we hope his pants are on.”
Dude, you can’t out-funny the comedian. Especially when he’s actually funny. Especially when you’re going with word play and non-edgy imagery you hope seems edgy to the mouth breathing dullards that read your bland horseshit. It’s like you’ve distilled all the uncreative douchebaggery of paint-by-numbers morning zoo radio into a subheading and sabotaged your own article with it. What you said fucking sucks. It fucking sucks. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin, then quickly crawl back into it so I have control over my limbs to punch you in your face on principle.
Why do I care about this, you ask?
A) Because I’m a fucking mental case with a website.
B) Because even two short sentences of low-level hack horseshit make the world a worse place.
Is there an edit process at Maxim.com? Does David Swanson post straight-to-web or is there a chain of command that things run through before they’re shat out into the electronic ether? Maybe it’s not even David Swanson. Maybe it’s some higher up creative godsend that sits there “spicing” shit up before it gets published.
“The cult comic rants on with his pants on. At least, we hope his pants are on.”
Oh, oh, fantastic! That’s “A” material, there! Because “rants”… right… rhymes with “pants!” But it’s not just “rants” and “pants” – it’s fucking “rants on” and “pants on!” And if that’s not a zany enough left-right combination of comedy, “we hope his pants are on” is a goddamned hilarity haymaker! Like – we hope his pants are on – right… right… because him not having pants on is such a wacky, embarrassing image for the readers to conjure up! Because it’s 1832 and the readers will surely have a gas when they read that one. Forget this Bill Burr chap – we need more pants material in here. And I don’t mean the fabric! Ba dum tss.
Nobody that’s entertained by your horrible fucking subheading will be entertained by Bill Burr. Why not? Because, as previously stated, Bill Burr is actually fucking funny. And anyone that finds humor in your shit subheading lacks the ability to appreciate actual funny things. They enjoy laugh track sitcoms and think Pamela Anderson is a relevant reference for female attractiveness, not a boner-chilling reminder about the danger of STDs. They also likely subscribe to print media. What the fuck is print media?
March 8th, 2013 at 3:10 pm
What I hate about the internet is now when I hear the term “rimshot”, it sounds like it’s probably some gay sex thing.
March 9th, 2013 at 11:42 pm
Pretty sure the print edition is limping along only because barbers still subscribe. The only time I can think of ever picking up a magazine is at the barber shop. I mean, I see magazines at the doctor’s office, but no fucking way am I touching those without surgical gloves and a 5 gal bucket of Purell on standby.
March 11th, 2013 at 1:18 am
PaulB – I said the same thing the other day, but my comments got lost in the internet ether. My barber always has the new issue of Maxim. He’s also the only person I know that still has a stack of porno mags, although the majority of them are from like the mid-90′s. Chicks with bushes and big-ass teased hair.
The best was Bill Burr’s takedown of Philly. He actually managed to win the audience over with it, which is next to fucking impossible in Philly:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNnkDjMVJqE