I'm A Weenie. Deal With It.

I am here once again on my day off, and I am listening to my just-purchased copy of "This Is Us", the new album by the Backstreet Boys.

Yes, folks, about nine years after anyone has even given them a second thought, I am still a fan. This album is clearly pandering to modern tastes in music, employing such go-to producers as RedOne and Ryan Tedder. This is par for the course, though; I think they have gotten over the delusion that they are actual musicians (a phase most boy bands go through), and have handed themselves over to their producers. Looking over the liner notes, they aren't writing too many of the songs, either. Thank God; their attempts at songwriting amounted to some of the weakest songs on the "Black & Blue" album.

With all that, I actually like the album. Whoever picked these songs for them did a good job, and while it sounds like they could have gotten four generic singers to provide vocals, I'm glad that the Backstreet Boys still have work.

Back in 1999 (when they were popular), I saw them in concert. And it seems appropriate that at the end of this decade, I am sitting here listening to them, as I have come full circle since then. I am ending this decade much like I ended the last one: alone (and not even being able to get laid, let alone have a decent relationship), with absolutely no reason to live. Only instead of dumping on anyone, I have a blog to write all this for anyone to read.

With a change of topic, in my tradition of impulsively subscribing to magazines, I recently subscribed to Details. Ever since I started getting The Advocate, I have been receiving solicitations in the mail to subscribe to it. So I went on their website, and found a cheap deal, and went for it.

I got my first issue on Saturday, and read it. Although it is not supposed to be a gay magazine, it certainly pretending to be one. First, a himbo is on the front cover. Granted, it's a football player (Tom Brady or something like that), but the fact that he is wearing a wife beater and is angled so more chest than shirt is visible is clearly not pandering to breeders.

Then, let's look at the ads. It's hard not to look at the ads, since there are so many of them. In addition to the sheer number of clothing ads (and other ads featuring lots of half-naked men), there is a huge section dedicated to men's fashions, and the impression I get is that any straight person who follows their advice had better not date Katy Perry.

Once we finally wade through page after page of clothing ads (this is probably why the subscription was so cheap) and finally get to some editorial content, we have some articles that might appeal to straight men, like "Are You Jealous of Your Kids?" Reading this, though, it could be about anyone's overpampered offspring. Continuing on, we have an article about a militant gay group, Bash Back! Plus, as a bonus, they have an article about the male equivalent of a fag hag, called a "Lesbro"!

Methinks Condé Nast needs to just let Details come out of the closet. I'm done here.

Eric Out.