Just got the latest issue of GQ. 436 pages of ads. Content doesn't begin -- begin! -- until page 120, with the letter from the editor. Nowhere in that letter does the editor apologize for the magazine's decision to give up on writing and go with a scruffy-hunky-model-in-strange-lighting format. And we don't just have ads -- there are folds out, pull-out, leaflets, different paper stocks, and all manner of trickery ensuring you can't simply turn pages until you find a byline. The magazine has to be deboned on the fly. And that, of course, fucks up the binding, so all pages, ads and the few not ads, begins falling off.
Bastards.
