• by Jack Feuer , February 6, 2008

Yeah, I know I promised you some thoughts about the new Adweek, such as it is, this week. It's comin.' And yeah, I truly love taking meetings poolside at the Avalon and wearing sunglasses after sunset. And I relish every chance to slam that nasty little island of yours.

But you don't play poker with a man named Doc, you don't eat at a place called Mom's, and you never abandon your hometown team no matter where life takes you. So for the record: Bill Belichick is the coach of the second-best football team in the world.

Also, every single spot on the Super Bowl stunk except the one with Will Ferrell, when he holds up a Bud longneck and says "suck one."

OK, moving forward.

Let's poke around this new Adweek, for which its editrix and her Nielsen masters (well, technically, a mistress), so deftly prepared us with their awe-inspiring press release of late last year. You know, the one that announced a bold step into the communications future by noting the weekly would now publish 36 times a year and its revamped Web site would include, like, stuff that moved.

Upon reviewing the fruits of these labors, it's clear that the boneheaded book has learned its lesson. Adweek is no longer even trying to pretend it's an independent, informed trade magazine.

After at least a decade of playing catch-up, often doubling as an in-house organ for favored agencies, Adweek has elevated its game--all the way up to average.

Compelling content? They don't need no stinkin' content. (Tom Carroll is the first video interview in this brand-new 21st-century Adweek universe. Tommy Carroll?! Where was that decision made, Il Cantinori?)

Ah, but what a pretty Web page.

One might quibble that getting to the middle of the pack instead of out front isn't cause for celebration, especially for an information resource that purports to report on cutting-edge communications. But this is the Internet, not exactly an overflowing reservoir of quality. Who's going to notice, right?

Well, me.

No disrespect to Gawker and its dish-digging on Adweek's boss, but this is why all the gossiping and back-biting about the editrix misses the point. In New York, the fact that a magazine editor terrifies and humiliates everyone she comes in contact with isn't news. It's tradition.

Style isn't why Adweek sucks. Lack of substance is why Adweek sucks. And Ad Age. And The Wall Street Journal. And The New York Times. And for sure Campaign, which is more a laddie book with a specialized interest than a real business magazine, anyway.

Which is why, when lounging around the pool sipping a Belvedere martini (up, dry, with olives), I'm far more likely to be reading the ad blogs than either of the sorry states that are the red and blue trade magazines.

More importantly, Tom Brady is Michael Strahan's bitch.