Are you, or is someone close to you a magazine pack rat?
It just kills me to throw out magazines. I have nature photography magazines from 1990 stacked under the bed.
Come to think of it, I have several Rolling Stone magazines from 1970 stashed in a cabinet in the den.
In those days, Rolling Stone was printed on newsprint, and none of the photographs, not even the cover, were printed in color. When I think back to my childhood, this compulsion about magazines becomes clear.
As a 10-year-old, Thursday was my most anticipated day of the week.
That was the day the postman delivered our weekly copy of Life magazine.
That was the day I learned about Louis Armstrong, John Glenn and Jacqueline Kennedy's version of Camelot.
So maybe, just maybe, my family will understand if I went a little crazy at the magazine stand on Sunday.
Whenever I get to the city, the first thing on my mind is heading for a really big newsstand.
Even I can't believe how many titles are being published in this down economy.
If you can think of a hobby or an avocation people pursue, there is a magazine to cover it.
Take, for example, "The Malt Advocate," a publication aimed at discerning consumers of fine Irish and Scotch whiskies. This month's cover story is entitled, "Cut and Dried, Jim Murray's Burning Love for Peat."
No, not "Pete, but Peat, as in Peat Moss. The cover of the magazine displays a picture of Mr. Murray standing in hip boots, with a pitchfork in his hand, in the middle of his famous peat moss bog.
If you think I'm making this stuff up, just visit www.maltadvocate.com and get yourself a subscription.
Here's another one: "Computer Pilot, the magazine for desktop pilots and flight simulator enthusiasts."
The current issue contains enlightening articles about piloting the twin engine Cessna 421, dogfighting in the P-51 Mustang and flying from Mildura to Melbourne, Australia, on instrument flight rules.
What struck me as odd about this magazine is that it's for pilots who never leave the ground, preferring instead, to become computer aviators.
Come to think of it, that's the only way I'd ever get to fly a plane.
Speaking of getting your kicks from the glowing screen, there is a magazine entitled "Codebook" that is devoted to helping people who are addicted to computer games get the better of the box.
In fact, the subtitle of the magazine promises "10,000 tricks, cheats and codes."
What's the fun of playing the snowboard game SSX Trick if you can buy a magazine that blabs about the shortcut you can take right out of the starting gate in a place named Merqury City?
I don't get it.
In the September/October edition of the bimonthly "The Rubber Stamp, the Magazine for Rubber Stamp Enthusiasts," Norma Anne Chattin shares her secrets for using rubber stamps to decorate recipe cards.
I thought rubber stamps were used for such mundane tasks as stamping the word "canceled" on checks.
But this magazine contains 160 pages packed with advice on how to use stamps to brighten your world.
Norma Anne has had so many requests for the recipe for her "White Trash Snack Mix," that she has begun decorating the index cards she hands out with rubber-stamped images of Elvis and other symbols, which for her connote, shall we say, a tacky lifestyle.
Finally, I wanted to save some space to describe one extra special magazine, which comes to us from Great Britain.
The editorial offices of "Classic Military Vehicles" magazine are headquartered at Berry's Hill, Cudham, Kent.
The publication is devoted to helping a peculiar type of nerd interested in restoring battle tanks, armored personnel carriers and lorries.
As best I can tell, the idea is to get these old war machines in running condition so you can pack up the family after church and go for Sunday tours around the scenic countryside of Kent, all the while making loud machine gun sound effects akka, akka, akka ... brrrappp!
What is most especially exciting about CMV's is the publication of a monthly centerfold (or centrefold, as the Brits prefer to spell it).
And so it was, with trembling hands, that I picked up the October issue of SMV's and flipped hastily to page 40.
When I flung open the centrefold, there she was showing off all the sexy curves fanciers of light armoured reconnaissance cars could ever desire the World War II era GM Otter.
From her sleek turret, mounted with a shiny bren gun, to the sneaky little port where the antitank rifle was fitted, this little beauty was built for battle.
We may have to add onto the garage I ordered a lifetime subscription.
Go ahead, turn the page.