I took a cheap shot at those corporate charlatans at Rolling Stone Magazine in an unrelated post last week (see...I did it again, its completely involuntary at this point.) Later I wondered if I had perhaps been a tad too hasty to drag their name though the mud, after all...they aren't that bad.

This Sunday, while patiently waiting on a haircut, I found myself sitting next to a pile of magazines. Normally I will default to any car magazine that is available (especially Low Rider) but I guess some thieving magpie already stole the Motor Trend. There wasn't a music magazine in sight, and these bastards didn't even have Vogue, Cosmo or W, all of which I will read in public without a hint of shame. After surveying my options, I decided to entertain myself with my cellphone by telling people how I had set fire to the Delrose after robbing the register, stealing their jukebox and telling every patron to kindly "go fuck themselves." When this grew tiresome, I looked back at the magazine table, and what to my wondering eyes did appear but an issue of Rollings Stone, sitting right on top.

Now... there are three things that can really turn me off to a magazine. 1.) Contrived hipness 2.) The spoon feeding of politics in what should be an apolitical tome 3.) Shameless corporate pandering whilst trying to maintain the illusion of credibility.

I was holding a modern issue of Rolling Stone (with a Maroon 5 cover) in my hand, so naturally this was like a big fucking Yahtzee! for the three deadly sins of credibility. To their credit, they do feature some interesting stuff, but only in small fifty word blurbs. The meat and potatoes of any modern issue is reserved for artist and stories that really matter, like the 50 Cent/Kanye hissyfit (only Kyle Wettner has the eye and natural instinct to put such filth into perspective), Maroon 5 and whatever other top 40 artist will line Jann Wenner's pockets.

Just when I think that the magazine could recover from a complete editorial bitch-out, I page past some advertisement featuring Pete "I'm not as hideous as the rest of my band but I still had to fuck Rumer Willis" Wentz, hawking some product in douche-bag-supremo eyeliner. Thanks Jann...I needed that.

I would hope that the majority of us plebeian consumers maintain some interest in important world affairs, but do I want to read about an Iraq funding scandals in Rolling Stone Magazine...not really. Leave that shit to Newsweek, Larry Flynt, Mother Jones or any Newspaper not owned by a William Randolph Hearst wannabe (that's you Ruppo!) Maybe ol' Jann could get away with this muckraking if he hadn't completely sold out to Fallout Boy's corporate pimps. If I wanted to be at the mercy of whores like Jann Wenner, then I would watch MTV, where I could at least not be sullied with the pretense of credibility or righteousness.

The Billboard charts on the last page were the final insult.

Below is the Billboard Top 10 from 9/30/67, just to remind Jann and his money grubbing pimps of what they flushed down the toilet in their rock n' roll swindle.

1    The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band      
 
2    Bobbie Gentry - Ode To Billie Joe    
  
3    The Doors - The Doors   
 
4    The Rolling Stones - Flowers     
 
5    The Monkees - Headquarters   
 
6    Aretha Franklin - Aretha Arrives   
 
7    The Temptations - With A Lot O' Soul    
 
8    The Rascals - Groovin'   
 
9    Jefferson Starship - Surrealistic Pillow  
 
10    Engelbert Humperdinck - Release Me

Yep, the extremes of the forty year expanse look like night and day. Way to go boys.

And, Jann...Go Fuck Yourself!

I know... I know, times and people change, but still...Go Fuck Yourself...  


Now, witness a sloppy rendition of Dr. Hook's masterpiece, "Cover of The Rolling Stone," which was clearly written when the cover still meant something.