I woke up early this morning because I’ve been fighting a fever since mid week last week and all weekend long. Finally I get some good news as my temperature only read 97.9 F this morning and I sighed in relief, but this doesn’t get me from calling a doctor or mean that the bug is officially gone. I’m gonna take it slow from now on.
So I started the day by concluding an article from Esquire that I started reading last night before the medicine kicked in and I drifted into a blissful sleep. On a side note, before I get into it, I received my November issue late because I had to resubscribe but under another name – still my name, by the way – because my real name’s subscription had expired and they sent me a re-subscription under my nickname rather than the one I’ve been using for a year. Why? I don’t know. But it got me a deal, so what the hell? Anyway, because I got the November issue late, I missed out on a lot of things that I wish I hadn’t. Like, for instance, finding out that Halle Berry is the sexist woman alive before the other readers (as most subscribers get their issues slightly ahead of the newsstand buyers). But really, I could care less about the Women We Love columns because most of them I can’t downright stand – no I am not a homosexual, if you were a devout reader of my blog, you would have read that post.
Like with my occasional Playboy, Esquire is solely for the articles. I kid you not, I’m just that nerdy. However, people believe me more when I say that of Esquire, but not so much when I say that for Playboy. I don’t know why though, if you’ve seen one fake blonde, plastic based woman, then you’ve pretty much seen them all. Anyway, I digress.
In the November issue of Esquire, there’s an article by A.J. Jacobs that I think my intelligent friends need to read because it’s rather interesting how our brains apparently work. This explains so much about us as humans and why a great percentage of us are completely ignorant and are willing to believe in such trivial of things. I have to say that must’ve been the most interesting thing I’ve ever read in Esquire, fiction or non-fiction (fiction, by the way, was the sole reason I started to subscribe to Esquire and why I read an occasional Playboy, though I do only buy an issue when it contains an article that is relevant to me).
Another zinger in the November issue that got me was the Stephen Marche column, and I’ve discussed one by him a while back, “A Thousand Words About Our Culture.” This month’s was on loyalty, which, as I was reading it, suddenly invoked the PUMAs as they were so quick to betray their own beliefs because of some over blown conspiracy theory.
It’s just now coming to my attention that I no longer read the magazine solely for fiction. After a while, I grew addicted to Chuck Klosterman’s column, Stacey Grenrock Woods’s witty sex advice column, and now the articles are becoming more socially relevant to me. This is beginning to scare me greatly. Has the guy who first went by the pseudonym Poet Demas finally realize that perhaps he’s growing up?
Well, it’s a about fucking time.