Here goes: I had to use up some airline miles by the other day. I didn't have enough to get a ticket: Indeed, the last long flight I took was to Prague nearly three years ago. And I didn't have enough for much of anything else. Hey, they said I didn't even have enough to donate to charity!
But the airline group (Delta) offered me magazine subscriptions. Wouldn't you know it? There wasn't a single cycling-related publication on the list. Nor anything having to do with poetry or literature in any other shape or form. Or history. Or art. Or France, Italy or England. The only travel-related publication caters to gazillionaires.
No Atlantic Monthly. No Harper's Bazaar. No Paris Review. And no New York Review of Books.
So what kinds of magazines were offered? Cigar Aficianado. (I have smoked exactly two cigars in my life and don't plan on smoking another. ) Wine Spectator. How, exactly, does one become a "wine spectator"? Now, I've known a lot of whine (actually, whining) spectators in my time and have been one more often than I care to admit. There were also magazines about parenting and other things I've never done and probably never will do.
I found only three that even remotely interested me. One is The Economist. While their politics are different from mine, I can rationalize subscribing to it because it's literate, intelligent--and British. What were the others? Please don't hate me for choosing these: Time and Vogue. At least I can tell myself that the latter will help me with my personal and professional image. And, even if I hate the writing, I can just look at the pictures. As for Time: I can read whatever I find halfway relevant and donate each copy to my hairdresser's shop.