One piece of the forest-felling collection of ads and offers and Official Certificates that is part and parcel of a Pub C-House mailing was a flyer ordering me to go online to see if I had won $25,000 instantly. Being the obedient sort, I went to the appropriate website, instantly found that I wasn't an instant winner (shock and awe!) and then was led through a collection of electronic ads and offers and Official Certificates.
Of interest is that, online at least, Publishers Clearinghouse actually offers discounted magazine subscriptions. (File that tidbit in the same folder as "MTV played a music video.") One such offer was for Gentleman's Quarterly, commonly referred to as GQ.
I look at that face on that cover and think, "Are you kidding me? Is that supposed to entice me to subscribe? Is that now the standard of rugged handsomeness to which I'm supposed to aspire? Firstly, comb that mop of hair into some semblance of a style, okay? Secondly, get some sleep in an attempt to cure those sunken, baggy eyes. And for the love of everything righteous and true, either grow a beard or shave, you lily-skinned, indecisive mongrel you."
By the way, did I mention I just renewed my membership in GROUCH (Global Ranks Of Unedited Curmudgeons & Hacks)?
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