Cover of the Rolling Stone
At least that’s what people tell me. I will never know.
They sent me courtesy copies. Of course I was properly horrified to see them all jammed in my post office box. I fired off the following letter (using something called snail-mail, which old people assure me they prefer), in large type so that they could read it:
Dear Rolling Stone,
I was shocked to see that you still exist when your recent issues started showing up in my mailbox. Please stop sending me your magazine. I am a rock and roll musician and as far as I can tell, your publication has nothing to do with music.
I will be eligible for AARP membership about mid-century, when I’m sure you will purchase my name from their list, assuming you last that long.To my one fan at Rolling Stone: buddy, if you’re hard up for cash I’ll float you a loan. Otherwise, I’ll do my best to get you a more legitimate day job.
Until then, please find someone else to subsidize your butt-ugly hybrid of commercial hype and fake counterculture pandering. As your parents are probably long dead, I recommend begging for money from Barbara Streisand, as you both share the same fan base of rich middle-aged white lefties, and she has more money than you.
I don't know who exactly Rolling Stone thinks their target audience is, but Bones is right, look at the ads.
The content is equally balanced between "This new major label-approved band totally pays tribute to 70's rock gods" and "Gore Vidal deconstructs the bourgeoisie bailout vis-a-vis the proletariat anti-intellectual betrayal".
Meanwhile the ads in the front half are for running shoes and the ads in the back half are all for boner pills.