Seventeen began in 1944 -- and I'm doubtful if the wartime version pushed the cut line "Guys & Sex: What He's Too Embarrassed To Tell You." Turns out, what he's too embarrassed to tell you is he's intimidated. Since the boys interviewed were 17 and 18, that's understandable.
You know when it's 3:30 in the p.m., and time to say the heck with health guru Dr. Oz and his sermons about cruciferous veggies? You're drawn instead to a deli with a wall-full of chips and cookies that look better than the Super Bowl in 58-inch HD. That wealth of options calls to mind Success magazine (where Dr. Oz, incidentally, also has a health column). It's snackable content. There are no 8,000-word pieces about a genius solving spherical mathematical issues. No in-depth profiles about where Rahm Emanuel's power starts and stops.
As a regular, some would say obsessed, theater-going New Yorker, I wonder why anyone would wake at dawn and wade waist-deep into freezing waters for bass? The answer, judging from Fly Fisherman, is the sheer joy of it, a Zen connection with the outdoors.
Making a baby may be fun, but it isn't always simple. Conception isn't just a woman's issue; it takes two to make an heir. And because infertility is evenly divided between the sexes, Conceive addresses everyone with user-friendly, highly informative content.
Amid all the how-to diagrams in recent issues of Field & Stream -- on parking cars before pheasant hunting; tinkering with the trigger to resuscitate an old rifle; using a transducer cord for ice fishing -- there are some shoots of amusement inside the ancient publication. Of course, those stand in sharp contrast to the deadly (pun intended) serious.
Lately, it seems far too many magazines can hear the clock ticking. A few good ones have even run out of time. But for one, a clock counting down the minutes left to its doomsday has actually been a good thing -- if you can call the thing it has been keeping time on, "good." The publication is called The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, and the "doomsday clock" that graces its homepage (formerly its cover -- the print edition was suspended in 2008) has been counting down the minutes left to a nuclear Armageddon ever since the birth of ...
Paging Scrubs. It's not a clinical work; it's a lifestyle magazine and terrific Web site geared to the 3 million RNs in the U.S. The new pub has all the hallmarks of a traditional women's magazine with less cloying sentimentality and more heart. It pays tribute to a noble profession whose practitioners suffer from chronic overload and nationwide shortages. And it's a reminder that nurses, like cops, are a subculture that face specific challenges.
One glance at the cover features confirmed WWII History magazine was for me. They had me at "Patton's Tactical Air Support"; I was even more intrigued by "Red Sea Naval War," which I've always wondered about. Down at the bottom there were some teasers: "The Real English Patient, D-Day's Dangerous Weather, German Hybrid Vehicle and much more!" Pretty impressive: even by the standards of military history geeks, this was some obscure subject matter, and that's just what the editors put on the cover! This magazine was arcane, in the most complimentary sense.