Right now, it's midnight. I'm vegging after returning from the almighty Tour 2000, which is what you do after experiencing something so rocking and cool as the Tour 2000 and the NOPI Nationals (it's not a shameless plug when there's no shame, right?). Anyway, I've been spending all night reading editorials from all the magazines in my apartment because just moments earlier, I realized that I had never read any editorials (other than those piddly pieces of drivel that I write every month for this magazine) in my entire life. Yes, I know, kinda scary, but then again, that harks back to what my guitar teacher used to tell me in high school between drags on his American Spirits, "Ricardo, there ain't no real world." (Ignore the nickname.)
Anyway, after going through a dozen or so of these brief gems of modern literature, I noticed a little pattern taking shape: the final sentence of every editorial was either completely moronic and dumb or otherwise constructed out of pure cheese. I'm not making this up. To support this conclusion, here are a handful of examples from recent issues of popular magazines that are on every magazine rack:
Cheapness is no virtue.
Hey, you've got to wear something.
As I say, that Aimee has great taste.
Even true love can't wait forever.
Sometimes family is all you have.
Enjoy the issue.
Do they steal this stuff from fortune cookies? Are they getting off the phone with their grandmothers just before penning these things? If you don't believe me, go to the magazine stand and see for yourself. It's all right there. Pick up a magazine. Any magazine, and swing your eyes to the editorial. It's usually the page with a dumb picture of some ugly face, a mug that should never be found in any sort of public print or media. This is the editor. Now, skip to the bottom and read the last line. Pretty lame, huh? There must be some sort of unwritten code, by which all these professional-type editors stand by that make them write like this. They can't possibly do it by choice, can they?
And but so, in my efforts to deliver the best possible magazine to your mailbox every month, I've decided to extend my goals with Super Street because you deserve so much more than cheap one-liners from Chinese restaurants. I am going to buck the system. Yes, yes, yes. And, in addition to putting together an entertaining, informative, not altogether unchildish, decorative magazine, I will also strive to avoid all forms of idiocy and the clich in the last line of every month's Holeshot. After all, what else can you ask for?Damn.-Richard S. Changsstreet@emapusa.com