An open letter to whoever signed me up for a one-year subscription to "Complex":
Hi. Thanks, anyway. Listen, it's not that I don't like hip-hop. I do. It's not that I don't like general interest magazines with reviews of music, video games, movies, and the like. I'm cool with that. It's not that I have anything against the magazine's publisher, Mark Ecko. Hell, I think what he did with Barry Bonds' record home run ball is brilliant, and I even voted on the ball's fate (to send the thing into space). I don't know much about your November cover boy T.I., but that doesn't necessarily mean I don't want to know more. That I cannot say.
But here's the thing. Your magazine is double-covered. And while your main cover may simply give the impression of "I'm a style-conscious urban dude," the other cover sends a vastly different signal, especially when the magazine shows up unannounced and your wife is the one who gets the mail:
No, the other cover gives the impression of "I'm a sneaky horndog who is scared of actual nudity and for whom an annual Swimsuit Issue is too little."
So, uh, thanks, but save your postage.
PS: Any chance I could switch to an annual subscription to, I dunno, The New Republic? Or Omni? Does Omni still exist? No, wait -- Wired. Wired is what I want you to give me for free without my asking for it.
PPS: Why is the model on the left wearing a big purple glove? Is she a silver-age DC Comics supervillain?