Boy, are my arms tired! Witching Hour. As if the world needs another pundit.

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Another Carrot and Shtick

“Dear Reader,” the title page begins, “As a loyal subscriber to a Time, Inc. publication, we wanted you to be the first to see our exciting new magazine called Your Diet, direct from the publishers of People magazine.” So that’s what this ink-saturated piece-of-a dead-tree is doing in my mailbox, I think as I thumb through the flimsy publication, which has come to my home unbidden. According to the editors, I discover as I read on, this new magazine is filled with “Inspiring real-life success stories; Practical tips to lose weight fast; and Satisfying snacks (without the guilt)." Nothing on that list sounds remotely novel in terms of a women’s diet publication — because, despite the generic title, this is clearly a magazine aimed at women. So, what does Your Diet actually have to say to the overweight American woman?

Unlike the upscale Health Magazine, another Time offering, Your Diet is decidedly working-class in look and content. Where spaciously designed, pastel-hued, Health dwells on yoga positions and fresh, organic foods from pricey, Whole Foods markets, Your Diet seems more interested in pushing name-brand packaged foods found at suburban supermarkets or middling restaurant chains. In one story, “Do You Miss Your Pasta?” they compare noodle dishes at the Olive Garden to those at The Old Spaghetti Factory. In another item they let you know which Starbucks drinks have fewer calories than others so that you can choose say, a caramel macchiato espresso with nonfat milk (170 calories) over a caramel mocha (190 calories). By the way, all of these features are surrounded by ads for “Carb Control” smoothies and Slim Fast products.

I laughed for some time over the page featuring tantalizing, color photos of Easter candies — like marshmallow peeps and miniature Butterfingers. Here the editors present the novel concept that eating small amounts of heavily-sugared treats — like a single Reese’s White Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Egg — is better than eating a whole, life-sized, chocolate bunny. It’s the opposite of the picture-is-worth-a-thousand-words concept, where many photos are used to complicate the idea embodied in a single word: moderation. Presumably counter to their intent, if these photos don’t make one want to go out and rape the candy aisle, nothing will.

Another unintentionally amusing feature of the magazine is the fashion section. Here the editors have abandoned the big, beautiful, model paradigm entirely. Instead, they show only the clothing, sans humans, deflated and laid-out on a white background. The thinking here must be, that with no actual bodies to disfigure the slimming, vertical lines of the clothing, anyone, no matter what shape they’re in, can imagine themselves looking sleek and attractive. It’s both clever and insulting. And though Your Diet is clearly aimed at the non-wealthy, these fashion spreads still push the fantasy that a working-class gal can afford a $276, flowered halter dress. (By the way, how many overweight women wear halter dresses, much less those created in a floral print?)

To be fair, there are one or two common-sense articles contained in the magazine, like the one about making small, sensible changes in one’s diet. (It turns out one should skip the mayo.) However, the bulk of the content — which includes reading about how a few people lost weight by using expensive, private trainers supplied by the editors, or how often it’s okay to have a chemical-laden Swiss Miss pudding cup — is not only old news, but, um… not very healthful.

Possibly the most annoying article in the premiere issue, which features a gratuitous picture of Teri Hatcher in a prom dress cleaning her floor — from an episode of Desperate Housewives, because this is, after all, brought to you “direct from the publishers of People — discusses how many calories are burned while doing common household chores. While it may be true that mopping floors burns four calories per minute, it is also true that a University of Glasgow study found that depression levels in women increase in direct proportion to the amount of cleaning they are required to do. As if being overweight and having to ration your marshmallow peeps wasn’t depressing enough.

For every public Camryn Manheim, who seems to have abundant self-esteem despite not looking perfect enough to be featured in this magazine’s fashion pages, there are a dozen Kirstie Alleys, who are obsessed with their looks. While Kirstie has had the nerve to come out as a Fat Actress, her comedy shtick is still, sadly, based on shame and self-loathing. For those women hoping to get information about how to get healthy, and hopefully slim in the process, Your Diet is about as relevant as eating pork fat and butter all day. For those who still think that microwavable food that comes in a plastic cup will make one thin and happy, Your Diet will continue to indulge that irrational fantasy. For women all over North America who need support to create healthier lifestyles, Your Diet is an utter waste of money.

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Breathe This!

More Hot Air

Much is currently being reported about the dire situation regarding the piss-poor state of news reporting in the U.S. It seems, that instead of communicating truly vital information, newspapers, television and other mainstream outlets prefer to present variations of infotainment. Let’s face it, most Americans know far more about Michael Jackson’s travails than they know about the fact that the BBC recently revealed a smoking gun memo that conclusively proves the Bush administration manufactured reasons to go to war in Iraq.

What is not being commented upon as frequently is that mainstream magazines, at least the ones that are making money, have become almost solely vehicles for advertorial — virtual catalogs really — rather than purveyors of information or even entertainment. (See Another Carrot and Shtick and the Real Simple Life.) In addition to the titles that are blatantly pushing consumerism, like Cargo or Lucky, many other magazines are masquerading as venues for information when they are really not much more than long-form advertisements.

A case in point is Breathe magazine. Their mission statement says: “Breathe is a unique new magazine that understands the desire to go deeper, to find meaning and balance while living in a material world. We explore ancient philosophy and traditions in a modern yet profound way. We look to the East with a firm foundation in the West. We ask questions and find answers and report on them with a sense of wonder and humor. Breathe is simply a celebration of life on this planet and Breathe Media, Inc., is a brand that appeals to consumers who identify with the values it represents – authentic, mindful, active, altruistic, spiritual and environmentally considerate. “

The way they tell it, Breathe sounds like a relatively spiritual endeavor. Yet, a look at the most recent issue reveals that it is filled with the usual consumer-oriented crap. For instance, there is the 12-page fashion photography spread that incorporates “ancient philosophical” tenets like anorexic models shown in hideous outfits with "traditional" contact information so the reader can purchase this same clothing to look similarly ludicrous. Then there is the five-page home décor article; featuring glossy pictures that “celebrate life” on a singularly opulent scale that most will never live. Even the celebrity interview with the ubiquitous Susan Sarandon (“Susan Sarandon Opens Up”) reveals nothing “authentic, mindful, active, altruistic, spiritual or environmentally considerate," that one hasn’t heard in dozens of similar interviews with her during the past five years.

Like almost all consumer magazines, Breathe features page after page of short blurbs showing off the newest and most desirable, East-meets-West merchandise. Since their niche appeals to the yoga-kabbalah-hybrid SUV crowd they push idiotic lifestyle necessities like a “dashboard ganesha ($22),” or tickets to the “Big Sur Yoga Festival ($525-$1060) instead of the comparatively useful items, like clothing and accessories, sold in other magazines.

As the hot air that pervades Breathe, and almost every other new, successful magazine demonstrates, the lack of reporting seen in newspapers and TV programs is now endemic to almost all media. Until corporations start paying for product placements in novels — not so far-fetched an idea — perhaps it’s time to renounce one’s subscriptions, unplug the Tivo and curl up with some good books.