If you read Maxim, and the word “read” is being used loosely here, you sort of deserve to be lied to, don’t you think?
North American readers of Maxim’s April issue, those who peer past Blade II’s topless “Chilean stunner” Leonor Varela on the cover and don’t get bogged down in the complex “Chill Your Chick” feature (a primer on turning “any girl into a beer-swilling, Super Bowl-watching strip joint junkie”), will notice the mag’s city-of-the-year item. This year, Maxim picked New York City as the continent’s top town. And Philadelphia. And Toronto. And Dallas. And nine other cities, hoping to boost sales by boosting the egos of its hometown-proud readers with 13 city-specific versions of the April issue.
Except Maxim made a boo-boo. Copies of the edition praising New York were shipped to Philly newsstands by mistake. Philadelphians were supposed to read about how “cool” the Liberty Bell is and why anyone disputing Philly’s title as “The Greatest City on Earth” should “have a bite of this cheese-dipped knuckle sandwich.” Instead, the typical resident of the City of Brotherly Love saw himself described as “a lard-ass with arteries packed as tight as a Colombian airline passenger’s G.I. tract” living in “a glorified piss break between New York and D.C.”