Rolling Stream?

One of the pipe dreams I've always had (along with opening up a used book and gun shop, living under a bridge in the Florida Keys, training a QAA field trial chessie, building a time machine so I can travel back in time to see the Pixies in concert, and spending an entire fall on the road, Jim Fergus-like, bird hunting across the country) is to publish my own little alternative hook-and-bullet magazine.

I've always been a big believer in the old adage "look at how everyone else is doing something, and then figure out a way to do it completely differently." And that's exactly how I'd like to create my 'zine.

You take some classic counter-culture weirdness; 70s-era Rolling Stone, a little Mother Jones, then mix it with some literary gravitas, maybe a dash of Paris Review, some early Gray's Sporting Journal and Sports Illustrated, and a little vintage 60s and 70s Playboy and/or Esquire, and then throw it all in a blender with an equal measure of the classic Big Three sporting mags from the same era, hit the puree button and what you end up with is my magazine, sort of a sporting New Yorker, but just a tad stoned, and minus the pretentious assholes.

You know, the kind of magazine that would publish the type of authors that sporting magazines used to publish. And no, I'm not talking about Corey Ford, Robert Ruark, Jack O'Conner, etc, etc, ad nauseum. Don't get me wrong, I love those guys. I have most of their books. But I'm talking about modern writers, edgier writers, as opposed to the more traditional outdoor writers we tend to wrap in standard-issue nostalgia.

Wouldn't it be great? No "how-to" for simpletons, no 200-word feature stories for the ADD demographic, no stupid graphics - in short, no abandoning of print's story-telling strength for the folly of trying to emulate the web. Just a weirdly eclectic blend of many different but equally wonderful styles, all hewing to the simple premise of great writing, great photography, and the primacy of the word as expression and art.

And it would, of course, be a colossal failure. It'd appeal to, oh, about 27 weirdos nationwide, while at the same time completely alienating virtually every traditional demographic from which it drew inspiration. Cool and unusual ideas often don't make good business models. Good business models don't often inspire and excite, which is why we're saddled with the choices we have. Ever it was thus.

But a dude can dream, right?