Justice: It’s not exactly a magazine, but it plays one on TV. Just Shoot Me just had its wish granted: it’s been shot. Don’t be surprised if it is replaced by a reality show set in the photo studio of Maxim.
Legendary birthday: The first thing I heard this morning when my alarm radio turned on was that Vassar Clements turns 75 today. I rarely know who the NPR Morning Edition’s obscure person’s birthday of the day is, so I found it somewhat amazing that I had seen Vassar in the Nashville airport earlier this week and went out of my way to play goofy fan. However, despite my goofiness, I didn’t come close to Ann, who called him Mr. Spicher. I’ll admit that before I had some fiddlers in my house, I would not have been able to confuse these two legends, but would have been like everyone watching us in the airport wondering who we were groveling over.
Stoned: Like Dixie Chicks and Southwest pilots, those magazine publishers sure do the darndest things sometime.
Peanuts: Look, I fly Southwest at least weekly so I can tell you there is nothing unusal about their staff doing off-beat stuff, so what’s the big deal with a pilot taking off his clothes. I mean, really? It’s not like the pilot posed for the cover of a national magazine, or anything. What a pilot wants to do behind a closed and locked and reinforced door is his or her business and not mine, as long, of course, as that thing is not related to insulting the president during war time.
Ex-spy: Kurt Anderson reflects to Rake Magazine about his days at Spy and other things. (The Rake is a controlled-circ magazine in Minneapolis.)