If you look at children's magazines from 60 years ago, there is a stunning lack of safety. For a generation raised on baby-proofing, Nerf, and To Catch a Predator, every feature and advertisement seems like a clumsy scam by medical suppliers to sell more size small body bags.
In the '50s, children had jobs as door-to-door salesmen and they were paid in weapons and bikes. If you tried that today, the first person to answer the door would be arrested for attempted sexual misconduct with a minor and the child would be shot for riding a bike without a helmet.
A generation ago, children knew exactly how many times you had to pump a Daisy gun to break human skin. Their bubble gum gave them instructions on how to crack a bullwhip. They knew how many firecrackers it took to render a mailbox unusable, and their only fire escape plan was a wet towel and a sprint. We need to bring that lack of safety back. The only thing safety does is ruin a good day at the shooting range. It's like we're raising our kids in the hopes that Chinese invaders will mistake them for pillows.
That's why I've taken the lessons from the '50s and written a children's magazine that pulls up the skirt of modern sensitivity and gives it an accidental pregnancy. Young fellows, you're about to become men.
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.