Why do men’s mags, or those that men might like, have to be focused on machines, camouflage, phallic shaped objects, muscles, cars and assorted methods with which to kill or maim? There are no books on Macedonian Phil’s macramé pectoral blankets for beginners. Needless to say devious Denton Dervish’s pachyderm dentistry is a total miss.
I agree these do not have the same world wide impact as, say, Eunice Fiend’s campanology compendium; 1978 edition, yet surely mensies are interested in a few cerebral things?
I saw, in one such magazine, a fishing lure with an led light to mimic a fishy with bleeding Dino Damage. It is so amazingly successful at luring innocent fishy wishys with time on their fins that it has been banned. (Apparently manly fishermen are too successful with said lure.)
I was so impressed with the article I was lured into a mind saving nap.
It is true that men talk mostly of sports how big they imagine their one shot wonders to be and how annoying their non-understanding wives are; yet? I forget Boffo the Bore; he does wood carving and tells endless stories about himself in a loud booming, can’t listen to anyone else, voice. He is the wilderness tour guide that, in a bid to save the princess, masturbated a rabid cougar to death whilst whittling an exact replica of his own Donger from a ten foot hunk of mahogany. Boffo the mans man, the hero of countless imaginary conquests and incredible victories. . . he carved a poppy for remembrance day. . .it was perfect.
So I say again why do men’s mags have to be such anal bores?