UPDATE: Oh! It's satire! Or to give it more credit than it deserves:
Or maybe I'm being stodgily pre-post-modern, or pre-post-Web-2.0, or something like that. I'm focusing on the cover illustration in isolation, when, in fact, the cartoon plus the artist's explanation of the cartoon plus everyone's reaction to the cartoon, including what I'm typing right now, is the totality of the work, a Cross-Platform Satire-Based Marketing Event, and we're all just shilling for Conde Nast whatever the hell we say about it. The combination of outrageousness and incoherence is what's brilliant about it, because we wouldn't keep talking about it if it actually got its point across. And we are talking about it. We may not like it, but we're soaking in it.
I'm sure I've taken the whole thing too seriously, but our air conditioning is out at work, and I'm sweating like I'm cutting weight. Everyone in the office is ready to fucking kill each other.
