Like a Rolling Stone.

Today, I got an issue in the mail of this magazine that I'm sure you've heard of. At their heyday, they were named after the second most known rock band of all time, talked shop with Paul and John after the breakup of the first most known rock band of all time, and oh yeah, Hunter Thompson wrote a few awesome pieces for them. But now, in 2009, what does it mean to read Rolling Stone?

It means that there is a scary trend that actually serves to ruin the consumption of our reading forever. That trend is this feeling of trying to cover "the most important development ever" in every issue. This sounds vague, and the first sentence is hyperbolic on purpose for this reason: writers and publishers are very un-sneaky in how they go about this.

When you look at the picture above, there are obvious things to notice. Shakira's breasts are pretty obvious, for one. But look at the headline: *Can Shakira Conquer the World?* The correct answer is no. The music scene is too fragmented and too fast for a woman whose last major splash is 2005 to really run on success. And Rolling Stone is further guilty of trying to entice the reader into mediocrity. In the era of Lady Gaga, we're being told that Shakira is still valid in her own ability to conquer humanity. Sure, she's a good dancer with inhuman hips, but how do you not see through the bullshit there? It makes me feel sort of embarrassed that my non-existent money (I paid a dollar for a shirt and got 12 issues of the magazine out of it) is going to a magazine with no clear intent for its audience.

Yes, the above sounds petty, but we do need to actually dig into the magazine. On page 34 is a piece by one Rob Sheffield entitled "Sitcom vs. Reality," which is based around the concept of the new ABC sitcom Modern Family and its apparent game-changing style of embracing reality show archetype versus the traditional sitcom format. This is well-written, because Sheffield does back up his arguments and at least makes a mighty defense. But acting like the sitcom is a culturally irrelevant art and that ONE SHOW will save it is the piece's only flaw, which of course means it is the front and center headline. It's not even that the sitcom isn't beloved, it's this silly belief in "the relevancy of it to culture" that only writers ever really think about. Only overthinking types care about the relevance of art. For everyone else, art is just there. And that is the current Rolling Stone's biggest flaw: overassuming relevance.

The fourth paragraph is even more ridiculous when the magazine is putting names like Adam Lambert, the Jonas Brothers, et al. on the cover. I don't need to tell you that the magazine industry is facing its inevitable death, and that even Rolling Stone cut their page counts in lieu of falling advertisement dollars. (My issue is 94 pages in total.) But how do you just attempt to champion things few actually care to follow?

Sheffield doesn't help this when he compares the Twilight saga to Pretty in Pink in a review of the New Moon soundtrack. (Complete with saying the shirtless werewolf guy is the film's Duckie.) The actual quality of the soundtrack aside, it feels so needless to compare things to other things to make our age "feel important." (I will note the irony of me saying this later.) Twilight is probably not Pretty in Pink 2009, even if our generation responds to it as such. It is its own idea of vampiric lust mixed in with staring, which might be similar to Molly Ringwald and John Hughes' adventures (in that it's a fight for a normal girl, though, this has more supernatural attacks to it), but shouldn't be compared because everything can be compared. The talent it takes to compare two things is nil. Hitler and I are similar in that we were both socially awkward in high school. Does that make us similar as people? I hope to god we aren't.

We should not let the past define our cultural relevance, but moreover, we should not let ourselves try to create needless importance. I'm typing a note on Facebook that five people will read. It is not that important in the grand scheme of life. However, if I noted that this was the best thing I had ever written and tried to force the importance, you know what would happen? A couple more people would read it, but the value of the work would not be the same. It goes against the art of criticism, but one source cannot declare the greatness of something much bigger than themselves. It would be a pointless exercise.