I have a batch of e-mails asking me to comment on the crashing and burning of Sports Illustrated, a magazine I believe I have opened exactly once in my life. That was around 1968 or so when someone made a remark on some TV show that some lady who was either a gymnast or a surfing champ was "almost naked" in the current issue.
Well, that I had to see and I was disappointed in the definition of "almost naked." The lady who delivered my groceries from Ralphs Market yesterday was wearing less clothing and this was in the rain.
I don't think I've looked at an issue since; not even the annual Swimsuit Issue which offers much the same thing. There's no need to see it there because we now have an Internet and at the moment it seems like every young, attractive woman in the world with a large chest has opened a Facebook account, an Instagram account and I suspect they're about to do a hostile takeover of The Los Angeles Times Sudoku page.
It's odd how all these women are opening sites with all the same photos of themselves and each other and how they all say the same things asking you to click to see their expertly-Photoshopped pictures. It makes you suspect one person or firm is posting them all. Never mind Hunter Biden. The United States House Committee on Oversight and Reform should be looking into this.
So what's happened to Sports Illustrated? The same thing that has happened to darn near every magazine. And if you don't know what that is, I'll let Kevin Drum tell you.