Pink magazine

During a painful drive between olive orchards (this is in fact True), I noticed a fantastic publication lied forgotten in the backseat of the vehicle: one of those magazines that compile huge arrays of bullshit articles about the glitz, the famous, the good-looking..... you know the deal, for sure. And what amazes me the most is that they're able to do it and fill 100+ pages WEEKLY!!
Yours truly is not by any mean a famous dude. Some friends do weave some caring love for me while others would party their ass off if they knew I fuck up or worse. Ok, again, nothing new here: this is life at its simplest form of reality - no one will ever be able to gather unanimous caring love feelings from all third parties they meet.
Getting back to the magazine subject, I was appalled by the senseless heap of crap that was (badly) written in those one-on, one-off pages.
I sincerely felt that I had much more right to be on those pages!
At this point you might even think that I'm hiding my jet-set-wannabe-status with a pretense pseudo-whatever angry attitude... If that's the case, please do, be my guest! I couldn't care less and I won't sue your ass.... the worst that can happen is that I won't publish your post. But I truly think that both of us can get along and live merrily with our different opinions.
By the way, this world is already full-packed with wannabes, and as a matter of fact, most people are wannabes and curiously even more people deny it.
C´mon dudes and dudettes, I'm not completely delirious.... So what if John Doe no.1 dates Miss Whoever Johnston ....
Is that a plausible reason that this pompous ass should waste so much time of my life? I think not.
Stop and think for a moment: How much do you really care who am I dating? Who am I seeing, and ultimately, screwing? What do you care about my clothing habits?
..... got the picture??
Is there such an urge to self-alienation? Is my life such a bore that I need to scavenge other ones to get a hard-on and a happy grin on my face..
If this is true, then something is very very wrong here!!!
(I'm not being extremist.. I'm just illustrating what you already know)
I'll now change my argumentation to other latitudes and briefly turn my tree-hugger mode "on" and tell you about the paper, the inks, the trees, the waste that adds to the visual pollution that these worship-magazines so blatantly screw into our eyes and other improper human cavities)
But like a coin, every story is cheap... ooops, I mean every story has two sides:
Since Dove started showing half-naked normal women in their publicity stunts, I was immediately staggered with the thought that the golden age of huge breasted, slim waisted, sexy thighed era could well be endangered. I even had a vision of a world where the aforementioned icons were pursued and hunted by a society of Laurels and Hardys where mirrors had been abolished and sex was no longer a pleasant thing to even think about.
Thankfully, both Dove and the hellbent post-modern archetypal woman that can raise dead men with one topless tit, have their market-share, so I called it a day in this facet of the plot.
I got back to my safe harbor and started debating about the true meaning of this god-ridden magazines.
Not having spend much more time that it takes to pick your nose when no one's watching, my conclusion was: being a professional cynical individual.... well, or at least trying to, I would tend to use those rose-colored magazines to update my gossip intel to the fullest, and then, use it carelessly in a frivolous conversation environment, pretending to have known it for ages thus increasing my cool-factor one inch in the most obnoxious way possible.

Either way, and although I read them when I can, I still hate those fucking magazines.