Emotional rescue
"Oh, Asian culture? I guess there's nothing in there for me."
That's what someone told me at the high-school reunion when I told him what I was doing these days. For the record, he's a nice guy, about as non-Asian (white as marshmallows) as you can get, and maybe he's even right. In the end, Giant Robot magazine is just paper and staples just like you and I are blood, guts, and bones.
Our magazine--and everything that goes into it--means squat unless you subscribe to the idea that it covers topics that matter, pushes culture (better yet), or has soul (the ultimate compliment). I've been working on the mag with other believers for so long that I just take these things for granted.
Last week, I went to GR's Socal newsstand distributor and picked up orphaned bricks of issues 40, 41, and 42. It's depressing that they weren't bought off the stands, but at least our sell-through rate is ridiculously high and we are able to give the leftovers new life at the GR store. Usually, returns are simply destroyed. At the plant, I saw massive bricks of shredded and baled magazines. Most of the mangled titles showed celebrities, cars, or smut.
Is there anything in those pages for me? I don't know, but if the guys that work at the plant learn just one thing from each of the mags in that bale, they would be the smartest guys on the planet. I asked one of the dudes if he reads everything that comes through, and he said, "When the boss isn't looking..."
Is it lack of time, no interest, or the pressure of the boss keeping us from soaking in all the knowledge, art, and culture that's out there? It's probably a little of each.
That's what someone told me at the high-school reunion when I told him what I was doing these days. For the record, he's a nice guy, about as non-Asian (white as marshmallows) as you can get, and maybe he's even right. In the end, Giant Robot magazine is just paper and staples just like you and I are blood, guts, and bones.
Our magazine--and everything that goes into it--means squat unless you subscribe to the idea that it covers topics that matter, pushes culture (better yet), or has soul (the ultimate compliment). I've been working on the mag with other believers for so long that I just take these things for granted.
Last week, I went to GR's Socal newsstand distributor and picked up orphaned bricks of issues 40, 41, and 42. It's depressing that they weren't bought off the stands, but at least our sell-through rate is ridiculously high and we are able to give the leftovers new life at the GR store. Usually, returns are simply destroyed. At the plant, I saw massive bricks of shredded and baled magazines. Most of the mangled titles showed celebrities, cars, or smut.
Is there anything in those pages for me? I don't know, but if the guys that work at the plant learn just one thing from each of the mags in that bale, they would be the smartest guys on the planet. I asked one of the dudes if he reads everything that comes through, and he said, "When the boss isn't looking..."
Is it lack of time, no interest, or the pressure of the boss keeping us from soaking in all the knowledge, art, and culture that's out there? It's probably a little of each.


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