I officially endorse “Esquire” as America’s best magazine

Rebecca Lang

In a nation that prints glossy publications that range from "Cat Fancy" to "Playboy" (which could have also been called "Cat Fancy" and achieved the same purpose), quality is generally questionable. "Cosmo’s" sex tips are always the same, "Vogue" reviews stupid-looking books and stupid-looking books only, and "Cat Fancy" reminds us of the limits of our ability to care about cats. Thankfully, "Esquire" is pure brilliance mixed with constant innovation and disturbing/awesome illustrations of old naked people. They value quality of writing above all, and employ the  talents of this decade’s best, like Chuck Klosterman and Tom Chiarella. Once graphic design unleashed a legion of different kinds of graphs and visual doodads, "Esquire" found ways to use them all. They also have a glossary of terms they make up at the beginning of the magazine, like "empirically drunk," which means "inebriation due to a philosophical approach to drinking in which more is generally better than better." Clever.