Suck in a bad way, I mean.
Sure, there's always someone cute on the cover, and there's invariably a photo spread inside that makes me drool while simultaneously feeling like a beached whale compared to the vacant-eyed air-brushed waifs who frolic in their square-cut trunks on the shores of Fiji or wherever, but I can't remember the last time I spent more than ten minutes flipping through Out or The Advocate.
I guess I sort of miss the pre-Barnes & Noble days of The Advocate, when it was comprised of eight glossy pages sandwiching 50 pages of seedy newsprint adds for sex-toys, phone-sex lines, and other sundries integral (or so it seemed) to the life of the average homosexual.
When I was in grad school, I enjoyed the edgy Outweek, which lived it's brief life in the late 80's and early '90s. Edgy, dangerous, and angry, the magazine was just the thing I needed when I was taking my first tentative steps out of the closet.
That's not to say that there's a complete dearth of quality writing in today's gay magazines. Kenneth has written some pieces I really enjoy, for example. However, I find myself so, so bored by most of the "articles" that provide flimsy excuses for pictures for scantily clad men.
Now, I'm an enormous admirer of the male form (perhaps you had noticed), but I can see hot men online for free. So why do I fork out $25 a year for Out?
To quite one of my favorite lines from Heathers, "Because you're an idiot!"