You know what would be great? Or, if not great, at least tolerable? If, in the magical land in which magazines are created and published, there existed a fantastical device. This device would look like a fat “Y” and lie on it’s back. Along it’s trunk, all the newly printed magazines would ride until they met the fork in the road. At the fork, some would go to the left and some would go to the right. Those to the left, the normal magazines that we are all familiar with, the ones staring back at us, smiling from bookstore magazine racks and next to the impulse candy at the market. Those to the right, the magazines to be sent to loving and faithful subscribers, to be read while lounging on the couch or before the last bit of light is extinguished in the bedroom. And what, besides their special destination make the magazines to the right so special? The fact that the magazines to the right, in all their resplendent specialness, do not get filled with those advertising inserts that fall out all over my living room.

They do NOT.

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