Time magazine tries to give me one (again)

Years ago I took out a subscription to Time mag just to get some free gifts - Christmas cracker stuff, as it turned out.

Long before I cancelled, unread issues lay about in neat piles. Its journalism looked and tasted like mystery meat: highly processed, glazed: not good for the blood pressure. Where was the individual voice? Harshly, I formed the view that anything it claimed or reported - or saw - was probably manufactured to suit its house style gospel. Such is the peril of writing and editing as if attired in pulpit robe.

Time has never got(ten) over my rejection. Like so many of my ex-lovers, it does not take No for an answer. I hear a plaintive ululation at the door (OK, the letter plate needs oiling) and there on the mat lies yet another billet-doux from Time (Discount Services).

The latest offers me a 54-issue sub for just £15. This includes 6 additional issues if I buy now, the 100 Special Issue, the Time Person of the Year issue, any other Special Issues, unlimited access to http://www.time.com/ and - best of all - the Time Privilege Card. If I pay by credit card, I can have my sub automatically renewed at the "guaranteed low rate".

The annual value of this largesse is £162. At just £15, I save £147. This is so generous that an MP would, I guess, have to declare it as a gift. The wonder is what's in it for Time. This is a loss-making offer though perhaps a healthy circulation figure helps maintain high ad page rates.

On the cusp of temptation I visit Time.com. Oh dear, the latest issue is dedicated to football.

Bin.

Tyler Brûlé: Aping Phileas Fogg for Christmas

The Monocle founder and editor-in-chief Tyler Brûlé why-oh-whys in the International Herald Tribune about the lack of Christmas spirit in London and New York (nowadays). But just when I fear he maybe doing God on us and thinking of empty churches, he adds a clarifier: “Shop windows were generally joyless and there even seemed to be a lack of special packaging in the department stores.” Ah, it’s the consumer landscape that troubles him, the lack of demonstrative, tinselly commitment to Christ’s the-till-bells-are-kerching-ing. I understand.

I’m not sure he’s right. My local garden centre opened its Christmas shop in September. Their wiry robot reindeers have been head-nodding ever since as mile-long ropes of pulsating light convey the message-seed of Christ’s birth (again) and fibre-optic trees iridesce like squid. Still, Tyler offers a comparative perspective based on his incessant, manic travelling - I wouldn't want to carry his carbon-heavy conscience.

In the IHT piece alone you can count up the air miles over a few days: "During a swing through New York last week ... "; "It wasn't until I was settled in on a fully decorated Lufthansa Airbus to Munich ... "; "Back in London 24 hours later ... "; "On Tuesday evening I boarded an ANA flight from Heathrow to Tokyo Narita ... ". In Japan he finds the Christmas that matches his festive expectation: "I actually got a bit emotional at the Tsutaya bookstore in Roppongi Hills as the music piping through the store reminded me of shopping with my mom at Ogilvy's department store in Montreal ... " Ahhhh.

Fortunately, he's not tempted to fly back to Montreal. But then these days he does live in "Switzerland, Sweden and Britain".