14 May 2006
Stupidly, I occasionally bought men’s magazines like FHM, Loaded and GQ when I was in my early twenties.
These magazines are basically there to turn men into women with regards to consumer habits. They implore men to spend money on crap they don’t need to “feel” better, whether it’s over-priced clothes, worthless silver gadgets or “lad’s weekends” to London or whatever.
I mainly became disillusioned with them when I saw a fashion page featuring some twat wearing a plain non-descript white shirt, and according to the caption “Gerald wears a shirt by Georgio Armani, £95.” This plain white shirt looked no different than the ones you can get for a tenth of that price from “non-trendy” shops. And “Gerald” looked like a fucking woman anyway, looking all moody and emotional as he gazed off into the distance, probably wondering what he’d spend his modeling fee on, and probably thinking “I know; £95 shirts. And gay porn.”
In the same issue of whatever magazine this was – I think it was FHM – there was an “updated Kama Sutra” featuring all sorts of sexual positions and crap. One was a position you can try with two women, whereby you fuck one from behind whilst she’s in a sixty-nine with another woman, and the column helpfully advised us “women are all a bit bisexual anyway, so they shouldn’t take too much convincing to perform oral sex on each other.”
This magazine made it out to be a common thing for guys to regularly bed two women at a time! In all seriousness, how many of you men, honestly, often have threesomes with two women? Two women willing to go down on each other? Answers on a postcard to 69 Fraud Street, Liarville, Bullshitshire. This competition is not open to Ron Jeremy.
These magazines are designed to make you feel as if every guy in the universe except you is getting laid constantly, and that in order to join the hallowed ranks of these supermen, you have to buy whatever the advertisers are flogging, whether it’s a plasma screen telly, a £95 Armani shirt or solid-silver cufflinks encrusted with crystallised moon rock.
These magazines are clearly written by women and Media Studies graduate twats. Anyone but normal everyday men. You can tell because they assume us men are two-dimensional “beer, sex ‘n footie” creatures, the same way feminists view us as being. All the articles are invariably about how great it is to drink beer, how to sleep with lots of women and about who is going to win the football league that year. There’s nothing remotely intellectual there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a culture snob, I don’t think that you have to read about Wittgenstein or Quantum Mechanics to be intelligent, but a stray article about, say, the current progress of the International Space Station, or an interview with a World War II veteran on what he did during the war, wouldn’t go amiss. Just something more thoughtful than the usual tripe they scribble about.
Instead, in between photo-shoots of Australian soap actresses in their underwear, there are lists of anecdotes about “The World’s Dumbest Criminals” or “Bizarre Deaths” that were clearly just nicked off of the internet and most of which have long-since been disproved by Snopes anyway.
What is it with them putting men on the covers and half-naked in adverts too? I know women are so narcissistic that they prefer to buy magazines with pictures of women on, but us men are different. Yet adverts in these magazines often feature guys with their tops off and looking all pouty and sultry. Why? Seeing a young man with his shirt off doesn’t make me want to buy some Yak’s piss aftershave at £50 a bottle. Look at the cover of GQ. Do you feel compelled to buy it just because it features a picture of a semi-naked actor on the front? (or singer, I’m not sure which, I don’t keep up with popular culture because it’s rubbish.)
Whether they are written by an actual women or manginas, just about everything in men’s magazines is from the perspective of women, given that it’s all about how to please women, how to get them into bed, what to do with them when they’re in there, etc. Never is there a nice honest article that says “Hey, fuck women. Or, rather, don’t fuck them. Here’s some useful advice on how to do something in your life that doesn’t revolve around women. Oh, and here’s a secret you might like to know; you’re not the only man who buys his clothes from Debenhams instead of Hugo Boss!”
Another thing that pisses me off about Lad’s Mags is the way they regard PC users as geeks. I don’t really mind that to be honest; after all, what do I care that some spotty Media Studies graduate prick thinks I’m a “geek” because I spend most of my life sitting at my PC and can beat Quake 3’s Xaero on Nightmare difficulty with my eyes closed? However what does annoy me is the way they hypocritically champion console games almost as much as they do beer ‘n footie. In the same issue, these magazines will condemn PC gamers as nerds and losers who can’t get a girlfriend, yet will offer exciting reviews of Playstation games and go on about the X-Box as if it was almost as great as having a threesome with two bisexual women whilst drinking beer. In a £95 Armani shirt.
To be fair there was one section of Loaded magazine that I did quite admire. It was an advice column titled something along the lines of “Dad Advice.” It was a problem page whereby replies were given from a selection of fathers who weren’t professional columnists, just real-life dads with real-life professions. There was “Spiritual Dad”, who was a vicar, “Money Dad,” an accountant, “DIY Dad,” a carpenter, and so on. It was nice. Guys wrote in with problems and would receive advice from the appropriate dad.
Otherwise, however, Loaded was (and, presumably, still is) all bollocks that, like it’s fellow Lad’s Mags, was designed solely to sell overpriced crap you didn’t need by (a) informing you that your entire worth depends on how many women you can attract and fuck and (b) implying every man in the world is getting far more women than you do. I’m not a commie, I’ve nothing against people trying to sell you stuff, and given that humans can survive solely on oxygen, food and water, anyone selling anything other than oxygen, food and water has to manipulate your needs and appeal to your vanity somewhat. However, these magazines are blatantly using anxiety and shame on a vast scale to get you buy shit you don’t need or want. In other words, to turn you into modern women, whose self-worth is based on material goods.
These magazines do not offer any articles that are informative or worthwhile, with adverts catered to your demographic; they are simply advertising machines, crammed with ads interspersed with articles on how sad you are if you don’t buy the shit in the ads in order to attract women.
I soon stopped buying them. Waste of time and money. I feel ashamed I even read them, although at least I learned a lesson from them.
Ponce around in a £95 Armani shirt? No thanks. An identical shirt from Debenhams for a tenner is good enough for me.
Kit out my bachelor pad with a groovy plasma screen television for £2,000? Nah, the big ol’ telly my parents gave me when I left home still works. I only use it to watch DVDs of cheesy 80s action movies anyway.
Rate my worth on how many women I can bed? In other words, how many women I can talk into sleeping with me by pretending to match whatever ‘ideal mate’ image they carry in their stupid head at the time? I’d rather rate my worth on how many things I’ve accomplished that are actually worth accomplishing thankyouverymuch.
Use scruffing lotion, facial scrub, pre-shave moisteriser and post-shave moisteriser by Clinique? Sorry, but water + sponge + 85p bar of soap = clean enough face for me.
GQ? Fuck you.
posted by Duncan Idaho @ 11:48 AM
At 9:23 AM, Anonymous said…
That article is fucking genius. I hate them too, in fact I don’t know any men that read them. Who buys the crap?