BY AMY Z. QUINN Uhh, remember what I said last week in this space about how the summer doldrums would be setting into the weekly newsrooms aaaaany second now? Well, faster than you can say “Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack,” both weeklies launch a soft parade of warm fuzzy this week. Inside and out, they’re well-stocked with feel-good features (some of which taste good, too), but let’s start, as always, by judging the alt-weeklies by their covers:
OUT FRONT
Over at Philadelphia Weekly, my bud DMac not only gets the cover with a piece on the Phils’ inexorable march toward historical levels of loserishness, but it’s a damn cool one, with the mustard and the peanuts and all. And the story ain’t bad either, well-written and thoroughly reported. Losing Proposition
City Paper: There is no truth to the rumor that staring at this cover too long will actually turn you gay. We checked. Seriously, it’s like they raided Lance Bass’s bureau drawer — and why is the one guy picking his ass? I must avert my eyes. For The Shorties: Summer Book Quarterly
WINNER: PW, BY AN ATOMIC WEDGIE
INSIDE THE BOOK:
PW: Note to Boss Phawker: Consider padding staff with “a few incarcerated writers.” Liz Spikol isn’t afraid to admit she’s been glued to the Paris Hilton prison drama. I feel the same way except I don’t have a good excuse like working with the Pennsylvania Prison Society. Tim Whitaker’s Editor’s Note seems to spend an inordinate amount of time justifying the cover story and includes the obligatory “Dan McQuade is really like 8 years old!” line. But on the good side, it name-checks both Bruce Buschel’s Walking Broad book (which I am reading right now) and Bake McBride’s righteous ‘fro, so I ain’t mad.
CP: Out here in the sticks of Jersey, the farm stands are already full to bursting with the early harvest (you missed the asparagus). But like liquor on Sunday, fresh local produce is usually out of the reach of you cityfolk, unless you’re looking for overpriced fiddlehead ferns at Whole Foods or are lucky enough to have enough yard space to grow your own. Aaaaanyway, Will Dean fills us in on the Headhouse Farmers’ Market, which opens Sunday. Sam Adams reviews SiCKO; note to “Sterling”: Your ass is GRASS, dude.