Unpopular Science

Unpopular Science

Last week, the grim reaper swung his scythe, and the death knell rang for Popular Science’s print edition. Born in 1872, this stalwart of ink and paper had weathered the storms of time with a resilience that’d make a cockroach blush. A relic from a bygone era, they decided to pull the plug on the tangible, opting for the cold, soulless glow of digital. Enjoy the irony fellas…

I’ve got a stash, a trove, a goddamn mountain of these relics, each one a time capsule from days of yore. The covers are real showstoppers. In the early days, they threw out art that practically screamed, “Dare to dream, you bastards!” Humble yet hopeful, like a drunken gambler eyeing a winning streak.

Then World War II stomped into the picture, and the covers donned a cloak of darkness, mystery swirling in the ink. It was like the magazine itself had caught a whiff of the war-torn air and decided to match the mood. But by ’48, the artists had sloughed off the somber shroud, opting for wit and optimism. The future, according to Popular Science, was a playground of endless possibilities. Unlimited, baby.

So here I am, surrounded by these visual echoes of a bygone zeitgeist, feeling a bit like a mad scientist in his lair. Screw a funeral dirge; I’m throwing a celebration of life, a feast for the eyes. I’m dusting off my favorites, those covers that make you want to stand on a mountaintop and scream, “We made it this far, you magnificent sons of bitches!”

So, pull up a chair, crack open a cold one, and let’s revel in the artistry that once graced the pages of Popular Science. Here’s to the dreamers, the optimists, and those who believed that tomorrow was a blank canvas waiting for the strokes of progress. May the glow of nostalgia light our way through this digital age. Cheers to you, Popular Science, you’ve earned your retirement in the hallowed halls of my collection.

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