Comments on: Postcards From The Isle of Irrelevancy: Three Shameless Magazine Tactics That Won’t Work http://publicschoolintelligentsia.com/?p=284 Culture, Crass & Sass From The Head Of The Class. Thu, 09 Sep 2010 09:44:30 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6 By: FannyPack http://publicschoolintelligentsia.com/?p=284#comment-138 FannyPack Thu, 24 Jul 2008 17:41:53 +0000 http://publicschoolintelligentsia.com/?p=284#comment-138 Sigh, you're wrong about those esquire covers. The Colbert cover is not meant to be a tribute to the Ali cover, but rather BOTH covers are references to Saint Sebastian. While you can criticize them for ripping off the same source material twice, it doesn't mean that they were any more creative in the past than they are today. I don't disagree with your major points, but the Sebastian covers are a bad example to illustrate them. Sigh, you’re wrong about those esquire covers. The Colbert cover is not meant to be a tribute to the Ali cover, but rather BOTH covers are references to Saint Sebastian. While you can criticize them for ripping off the same source material twice, it doesn’t mean that they were any more creative in the past than they are today.

I don’t disagree with your major points, but the Sebastian covers are a bad example to illustrate them.

]]> By: wonk-banned http://publicschoolintelligentsia.com/?p=284#comment-129 wonk-banned Wed, 23 Jul 2008 14:35:30 +0000 http://publicschoolintelligentsia.com/?p=284#comment-129 This is good. Here, in this post, the internet has transcended the printed magazines. Not just any magazines, but the really gooey center of the magazines. I think it has happened, the internet just became more in touch, more relevant, and more intuitive than the establishment. How many licks does it take to get to the center of these tootsie roll pops? Not even one. We throw the suckers against the pavement of our public housing sprawl. As the candy shatters, oh yeah, we laugh and say... hey, this shit's not crack! We're the crack out here, not you big magazine peoples, you can't be us. Let's start with the first one: Esquire Colbert Cover. Just a pathetic attempt at publicity. Esquire, cough up the big bucks and get Annie Liebovitz on the motherfucker. Either that or slut the muslims, or claim that Barak is a muslim... wait... shit, the New Yorker beat you to it. Though, it's a good thing, because the only cover more pathetic than the Colbert cover is the New Yorker cover. You're right, they are way, way, way off base. They've fucking lost it, the "it", and what we are witnessing is just unadulterated fucking desperation. I love it. ;) Moving along to Vanity Fair and what's his name. Oh, oh, I get it... you've got yourself a real cult of personality there with old don't serve me too much wine before it's time guy there. No, he's a fucking poet, nay a genius, and the only sensible thing to do is stake the entire future of your magazine on the strength of this single writer. Hitch, we will all be there when you melt down under the stress. Rather, you will be here, with us, on the internets. I'll be sitting in my "drawers" geeking on meth, pounding this shit out like a mother fucking industrial sized sewing machine run by rosie the riveter. About that time, Apollo Anton NO NO, oops, I mean the Obama t-shirt guy, will make a really fucked up t-shirt about it. It hasn't even happened yet and we've already been there and done that. This begs the question, why oh why great magazines, why do you want to do it again and again? They're like a bunch of alcoholics, minus the moment of clarity, which will happen when they are the most stylishly dressed and socially conscious mother fuckers in the unemployment line. In short, we're coming for you magazine establishment, the world is ours! Say hello to our little friend. (the pipe) This is good. Here, in this post, the internet has transcended the printed magazines. Not just any magazines, but the really gooey center of the magazines. I think it has happened, the internet just became more in touch, more relevant, and more intuitive than the establishment. How many licks does it take to get to the center of these tootsie roll pops? Not even one. We throw the suckers against the pavement of our public housing sprawl. As the candy shatters, oh yeah, we laugh and say… hey, this shit’s not crack! We’re the crack out here, not you big magazine peoples, you can’t be us.

Let’s start with the first one: Esquire Colbert Cover. Just a pathetic attempt at publicity. Esquire, cough up the big bucks and get Annie Liebovitz on the motherfucker. Either that or slut the muslims, or claim that Barak is a muslim… wait… shit, the New Yorker beat you to it. Though, it’s a good thing, because the only cover more pathetic than the Colbert cover is the New Yorker cover. You’re right, they are way, way, way off base. They’ve fucking lost it, the “it”, and what we are witnessing is just unadulterated fucking desperation. I love it. ;)

Moving along to Vanity Fair and what’s his name. Oh, oh, I get it… you’ve got yourself a real cult of personality there with old don’t serve me too much wine before it’s time guy there. No, he’s a fucking poet, nay a genius, and the only sensible thing to do is stake the entire future of your magazine on the strength of this single writer. Hitch, we will all be there when you melt down under the stress. Rather, you will be here, with us, on the internets. I’ll be sitting in my “drawers” geeking on meth, pounding this shit out like a mother fucking industrial sized sewing machine run by rosie the riveter. About that time, Apollo Anton NO NO, oops, I mean the Obama t-shirt guy, will make a really fucked up t-shirt about it. It hasn’t even happened yet and we’ve already been there and done that. This begs the question, why oh why great magazines, why do you want to do it again and again? They’re like a bunch of alcoholics, minus the moment of clarity, which will happen when they are the most stylishly dressed and socially conscious mother fuckers in the unemployment line. In short, we’re coming for you magazine establishment, the world is ours!

Say hello to our little friend. (the pipe)

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