CHECK, PLEASE
—
Thanks for tuning in. Just a note before we get going: This is the 50th episode of The Full Bleed, and I, along with the team here at Magazeum, truly appreciate the time you spend with us.
Waiting is what I consider a perfect magazine. Not because of its design or the writing, though both are stellar. But mostly because it functions as a closed loop. How? The subject and the audience are one and the same. Waiting, you see, is a magazine about creatives in New York’s service industry. And it is a magazine for creatives in New York’s service industry. That’s a neat trick and also makes me wonder why no one had done this before founder, editor-in-chief, and complete magazine neophyte Adele Blanton hit upon the idea.
Adele has done the math: 10 percent of the estimated 700,000 people working in the food and beverage industry in New York are artists of some kind. Artists, actors, writers, dancers. You name it. And that number is a healthy baseline for any publication. Waiting has published three well-received issues and now she and the team behind it has to figure out how to maintain and grow the media. That’s one of the many things we talk about on the show.
Did we tell you this is our 50th episode? Because it’s our 50th episode.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CHECK, PLEASE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thanks for tuning in. Just a note before we get going: This is the 50th episode of &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Full Bleed&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, and I, along with the team here at Magazeum, truly appreciate the time you spend with us.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; is what I consider a perfect magazine. Not because of its design or the writing, though both are stellar. But mostly because it functions as a closed loop. How? The subject and the audience are one and the same. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, you see, is a magazine about creatives in New York’s service industry. And it is a magazine for creatives in New York’s service industry. That’s a neat trick and also makes me wonder why no one had done this before founder, editor-in-chief, and complete magazine neophyte Adele Blanton hit upon the idea.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adele has done the math: 10 percent of the estimated 700,000 people working in the food and beverage industry in New York are artists of some kind. Artists, actors, writers, dancers. You name it. And that number is a healthy baseline for any publication. Waiting has published three well-received issues and now she and the team behind it has to figure out how to maintain and grow the media. That’s one of the many things we talk about on the show.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Did we tell you this is our 50th episode? Because it’s our 50th episode.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with Waiting founder/editor Adele Blanton

Adele Blanton (Founder: Waiting)

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST
—
Where do magazine designers go after all the magazines are gone? That’s a question we’ve often pondered in recent years.
Well, if you’ve been paying close attention, you’d probably guess, as it turns out, a lot of them go to Cupertino. And much of this migration can be traced to 2014, when today’s guest, AIGA Medalist and Emmy award-winning creative director Arem Duplessis, left his storied job at The New York Times Magazine to go to work at Apple.
You might be asking yourself, "Why would one of America’s most high-profile magazine designers leave a coveted job at an iconic publication—one that brought him global recognition, countless awards, and deep creative satisfaction—for a famously secretive company known, well, for locking away its talent in a vault of non-disclosure agreements?"
But the better question might be, "Why wouldn’t he?"
Duplessis is arguably one of the most influential creative directors of his time. His ten years of covers for The New York Times Magazine shaped its vision and identity. As creative director at GQ, he helped create the now-ubiquitous Gotham family of fonts. And he’s blazed the trail for print designers in search of digital futures.
While the departure of big-name magazine designers like Rem to Silicon Valley may strike fear in some, it reaffirms what many of us have long known: Despite years of slumping newsstand sales and magazine closures, the all-purpose skills of elite creative directors are still very much in demand.
As former ESPN creative director Neil Jamieson says, “Why wouldn’t Apple be hiring magazine designers? No category of designer is more multifaceted. Beyond the fundamentals, they do branding, packaging, identity, storytelling. They have experience on set, with video, social, and short-form storytelling.”
There’s no question there’s a dire need in the corporate field for these kinds of skills. The question that remains unanswered, so far, is: Can that kind of digital work ever deliver the same creative fulfillment that magazines do?
We talked to Duplessis about learning to scuba dive in his Dad’s Virginia quarry, the modeling career that wasn’t, cutting his teeth at the controversial hip-hop magazine, Blaze, adapting to life on the West Coast, and what he’s planning for life after work.
—
THIS EPISODE IS MADE POSSIBLE BY OUR FRIENDS AT COMMERCIAL TYPE AND FREEPORT PRESS.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Where do magazine designers go after all the magazines are gone? That’s a question we’ve often pondered in recent years.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, if you’ve been paying close attention, you’d probably guess, as it turns out, a lot of them go to Cupertino. And much of this migration can be traced to 2014, when today’s guest, AIGA Medalist and Emmy award-winning creative director Arem Duplessis, left his storied job at The New York Times Magazine to go to work at Apple.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You might be asking yourself, "Why would one of America’s most high-profile magazine designers leave a coveted job at an iconic publication—one that brought him global recognition, countless awards, and deep creative satisfaction—for a famously secretive company known, well, for locking away its talent in a vault of non-disclosure agreements?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But the better question might be, "Why wouldn’t he?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Duplessis is arguably one of the most influential creative directors of his time. His ten years of covers for The New York Times Magazine shaped its vision and identity. As creative director at GQ, he helped create the now-ubiquitous Gotham family of fonts. And he’s blazed the trail for print designers in search of digital futures.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;While the departure of big-name magazine designers like Rem to Silicon Valley may strike fear in some, it reaffirms what many of us have long known: Despite years of slumping newsstand sales and magazine closures, the all-purpose skills of elite creative directors are still very much in demand.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As former ESPN creative director Neil Jamieson says, “Why wouldn’t Apple be hiring magazine designers? No category of designer is more multifaceted. Beyond the fundamentals, they do branding, packaging, identity, storytelling. They have experience on set, with video, social, and short-form storytelling.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There’s no question there’s a dire need in the corporate field for these kinds of skills. The question that remains unanswered, so far, is: Can that kind of digital work ever deliver the same creative fulfillment that magazines do?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We talked to Duplessis about learning to scuba dive in his Dad’s Virginia quarry, the modeling career that wasn’t, cutting his teeth at the controversial hip-hop magazine, Blaze, adapting to life on the West Coast, and what he’s planning for life after work.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THIS EPISODE IS MADE POSSIBLE BY OUR FRIENDS AT COMMERCIAL TYPE AND FREEPORT PRESS.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with designer Arem Duplessis (Apple, The New York Times Magazine, GQ, more…)

Best of PID: Arem Duplessis (Designer: Apple, The New York Times Magazine, GQ, more)

THE INTERNET WILL NOT BE TELEVISED
—
The tech industry is easy to dislike, admire, ridicule, resent, need, and all of the above. Look, this podcast doesn’t exist without tech. But there is also no "enshittification" without tech. Coined by writer Cory Doctorow that word has entered the general lexicon with a speed and ubiquity that might make someone like, I don’t know, Shakespeare envious. If he knew what was going on. Which he doesn’t.
All of this to introduce InFormation, a magazine about tech, but more importantly, a magazine about “what tech is doing to us.” The people behind it work in the industry and so understand it, which makes them dislike it even more.
Twenty-five years ago, InFormation was like the Spy magazine of the dot com boom, a bit of a kick in the pants to an industry and a group of people who saw themselves in utopian if not messianic terms. And while they might still see themselves that way (spoiler alert: they most certainly do), a lot of people in the world do not, and so InFormation is back, it has reformed, and is being published again, with the same attitude, that is it continues to kick ass but with more feeling, because Silicon Valley is no longer a place but a mindset, techbros are a thing and a wealthy thing at that, and, well, there’s a general feeling that the world has been thoroughly colonized and completely enshittified.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE INTERNET WILL NOT BE TELEVISED&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The tech industry is easy to dislike, admire, ridicule, resent, need, and all of the above. Look, this podcast doesn’t exist without tech. But there is also no "enshittification" without tech. Coined by writer Cory Doctorow that word has entered the general lexicon with a speed and ubiquity that might make someone like, I don’t know, Shakespeare envious. If he knew what was going on. Which he doesn’t.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All of this to introduce &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;InFormation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, a magazine about tech, but more importantly, a magazine about “what tech is doing to us.” The people behind it work in the industry and so understand it, which makes them dislike it even more.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Twenty-five years ago, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;InFormation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; was like the &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Spy &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;magazine of the dot com boom, a bit of a kick in the pants to an industry and a group of people who saw themselves in utopian if not messianic terms. And while they might still see themselves that way (spoiler alert: they most certainly do), a lot of people in the world do not, and so &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;InFormation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; is back, it has reformed, and is being published again, with the same attitude, that is it continues to kick ass but with more feeling, because Silicon Valley is no longer a place but a mindset, techbros are a thing and a wealthy thing at that, and, well, there’s a general feeling that the world has been thoroughly colonized and completely enshittified.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with InFormation founder/editor David Temkin

David Temkin (Founder: InFormation)

THE NEW YORK OBSERVER
—
“I finally went up to Graydon and I said, ‘Hey, you know, I know you like me. I know you wanted me to be here, but I can also do covers.’”
• • •
That’s today’s guest, Mark Seliger. He’s the same Mark Seliger who, at the moment of this exchange with Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter, had already shot over 180 covers for Rolling Stone, where he was the chief photographer from 1992-2002.
Seliger had been heavily recruited by GQ and Vanity Fair to move to Condé Nast. But, as he learned, the days of being Fred Woodward’s go-to image maker were over. Once again, he was the new guy. And he saw an opportunity to reinvent himself.
Fortunately, reinvention is Seliger’s middle name. (Well, it’s really Alan, but you get what we mean). For example:
Seliger grew up in rural Texas, but decides to go big and moves to New York City to get into the magazine business. Reinvention #1.
He gets early work at business magazines like Manhattan, Inc. In short time his portraiture lands him a few plum assignments at Rolling Stone. Reinvention #2.
Unforgettable shoots and an immediate connection with Woodward lands him the title of chief photographer, and he picks right up where the legendary Annie Leibovitz leaves off. Reinvention #3.
His exposure at Rolling Stone leads Seliger (along with his pal Woodward) to directing music videos for A-listers like Lenny Kravitz and Courtney Love, and Gap commercials with LL Cool J and Missy Elliott. Reinvention #4.
When Covid hits, and publishing effectively shuts down, he pivots to documentary photography and produces an epic portfolio of an empty and still New York City that becomes the book, The City That Finally Sleeps. Reinvention #5.
And somewhere in the middle of all of this, Reinvention #6: Seliger starts writing songs in his free time, and then forms the band Rusty Truck. And at the moment Seliger is reminding Graydon Carter that he knows his way around a cover shoot, Rusty Truck releases its first album, Luck’s Changing Lanes, which is produced by Lenny Kravitz, Gillian Welch, Willie Nelson, Dave Rawlings, Sheryl Crow, T-Bone Burnett, and Bob Dylan.
That’s a lot. A whole lot. But for Seliger, it’s all of a piece. Photography, music, work, life. He says it’s all about following your curiosity. Observing. Not just looking but seeing. “For me,” he explains, “it’s all about storytelling—the storytelling in photography translated well into the storytelling of songwriting. And that exploration leads you to do something that you’d never done before.”
That’s the story of his life.
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at <a href="https://commercialtype.com" rel="noopener noreferrer">Commercial Type</a> and Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE NEW YORK OBSERVER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“I finally went up to Graydon and I said, ‘Hey, you know, I know you like me. I know you wanted me to be here, but I can also do covers.’”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;• • •&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That’s today’s guest, Mark Seliger. He’s the same Mark Seliger who, at the moment of this exchange with &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vanity Fair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; editor Graydon Carter, had already shot over &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;180&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; covers for &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rolling Stone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, where he was the chief photographer from 1992-2002.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seliger had been heavily recruited by &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GQ&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vanity Fair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; to move to Condé Nast. But, as he learned, the days of being Fred Woodward’s go-to image maker were over. Once again, he was the new guy. And he saw an opportunity to reinvent himself.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fortunately, reinvention is Seliger’s middle name. (Well, it’s really Alan, but you get what we mean). For example:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seliger grew up in rural Texas, but decides to go big and moves to New York City to get into the magazine business. Reinvention #1.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He gets early work at business magazines like &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Manhattan, Inc&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. In short time his portraiture lands him a few plum assignments at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rolling Stone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. Reinvention #2.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Unforgettable shoots and an immediate connection with Woodward lands him the title of chief photographer, and he picks right up where the legendary Annie Leibovitz leaves off. Reinvention #3.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;His exposure at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rolling Stone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; leads Seliger (along with his pal Woodward) to directing music videos for A-listers like Lenny Kravitz and Courtney Love, and Gap commercials with LL Cool J and Missy Elliott. Reinvention #4.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When Covid hits, and publishing effectively shuts down, he pivots to documentary photography and produces an epic portfolio of an empty and still New York City that becomes the book, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The City That Finally Sleeps&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. Reinvention #5.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And somewhere in the middle of all of this, Reinvention #6: Seliger starts writing songs in his free time, and then forms the band Rusty Truck. And at the moment Seliger is reminding Graydon Carter that he knows his way around a cover shoot, Rusty Truck releases its first album, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Luck’s Changing Lanes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, which is produced by Lenny Kravitz, Gillian Welch, Willie Nelson, Dave Rawlings, Sheryl Crow, T-Bone Burnett, and Bob Dylan.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That’s a lot. A whole lot. But for Seliger, it’s all of a piece. Photography, music, work, life. He says it’s all about following your curiosity. Observing. Not just looking but &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;seeing.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; “For me,” he explains, “it’s all about storytelling—the storytelling in photography translated well into the storytelling of songwriting. And that exploration leads you to do something that you’d never done before.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That’s the story of his life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="https://commercialtype.com" rel="noopener noreferrer"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Commercial Type&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; and Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

A conversation with photographer Mark Seliger

Best of PID: Mark Seliger (Photographer: Vanity Fair, Rolling Stone, more)

REALITY BITES
—
 I am Gen X. I’m telling you this because, well, this is hardly something that is ever relevant to any conversation when, in fact, it is also always relevant to everything.
But I just don't talk about it because who cares when I was born, or that we Gen Xers all live in the long and darkest of dark shadow of Boomers, or the loud echo of Millennials, or the annoyingly brash and unknowing living of whatever the other younger generations are called. I’m Gen X, and I just know one thing: there are more of you than there are of me, and there always have been.
I'm saying all this because today we're gonna talk about Geezer magazine, as if any Gen X-er in their right mind would ever call themselves a geezer, because that's Boomer stuff. And hey, did you see we're turning 60? For fuck’s sake. As if.
So yes, Geezer, a magazine by and for Gen X that is both completely irreverent and surprisingly serious and even tender, that balances nostalgia with irony. And while Gen X’s favorite word might be whatever, the secret is we care what you think. We always have. You just have to first extract a whole lot of other stuff, that cold exterior built up as a defense mechanism against a world that is stupid, and that for whatever reason the Boomers keep running. Meaning sure, we like to say never mind, but we also sang “Don’t You Want Me” and “Debaser.”
So just take a chill pill. I promise we’ll talk about a rad magazine on today’s show..
—
This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.
A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025

<description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;REALITY BITES&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt; I am Gen X. I’m telling you this because, well, this is hardly something that is ever relevant to any conversation when, in fact, it is also always relevant to everything.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I just don't talk about it because who cares when I was born, or that we Gen Xers all live in the long and darkest of dark shadow of Boomers, or the loud echo of Millennials, or the annoyingly brash and unknowing living of whatever the other younger generations are called. I’m Gen X, and I just know one thing: there are more of you than there are of me, and there always have been.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm saying all this because today we're gonna talk about &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Geezer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt; magazine, as if any Gen X-er in their right mind would ever call themselves a geezer, because that's Boomer stuff. And hey, did you see we're turning 60? For fuck’s sake. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As if&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So yes, Geezer, a magazine by and for Gen X that is both completely irreverent and surprisingly serious and even tender, that balances nostalgia with irony. And while Gen X’s favorite word might be whatever, the secret is we care what you think. We always have. You just have to first extract a whole lot of other stuff, that cold exterior built up as a defense mechanism against a world that is stupid, and that for whatever reason the Boomers keep running. Meaning sure, we like to say never mind, but we also sang “Don’t You Want Me” and “Debaser.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So just take a chill pill. I promise we’ll talk about a rad magazine on today’s show..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;—&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This episode is made possible by our friends at Freeport Press.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A production of Magazeum LLC ©2021–2025&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description>

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