Our topic this morning is the disreputable state of magazines in waiting rooms across the Magic Valley.

Magazines, as you probably know, are all that prevents dental patients from running screaming from the premises whenever the dentist cranks up the drill in the next room. They keep middle-aged men in their waiting room seats when they know the doctor is about to perform a prostate exam, and calm women on the verge of mammograms.

Sadly, seven-year-old copies of House Beautiful, which I encountered on a recent visit to the doctor's office, just don't do the job.

My old doctor, who was part of the same practice, once bragged to me that he'd never in his career purchased a magazine for his waiting room. He simply asked all the other docs and the office's staff to bring in their old magazines.

Hence the dogged-eared National Geographic magazines from 1954.

I'm afraid that same philosophy has infected barbers, dentists, hair stylists and the people who run auto repair shops across south-central Idaho.

On a recent visit to the quick-lube to get my oil changed, the only reading matter on offer was a Cabela's catalog from 2003.

Now I'm as much an admirer for the giant outdoors-gear retailer as the next guy, but I don't see myself ever being in the market for a Ruffwear dog backpack for my Lhasa apso or a 26-ounce plastic urination bottle from HME Products.

When I got a haircut recently, the only thing to read was the January 2008 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine, featuring "53 smart, little ways to start your beauty transformation now." My personal favorite: "Firm up your jawline: If you've begun to see a softening of your jawline, spend five minutes every morning and night chomping as though you were chewing a piece of meat. This will strengthen the jaw muscles and create more definition."

My jawline now firmly defined, it was time to visit the dentist. Dr. Painless stocks his waiting room with magazines such The New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly that contain long articles.

You just get to the third page of a fascinating piece on why Osama bin Laden wanted to be a figure-skater when the nurse says, "Mr. Crump?"

An hour later, your jaw fully numbed and drool running down your chin, it's bad form to sit back down in the waiting room and finish the article. So I'll never find out if Osama landed that triple lutz.

Even so, that's a big improvement on the magazines my orthodontist used to leave in his waiting room when I was a kid. They were all clinical journals, full of photographs of people with grotesque-looking teeth and articles about all the things that could go wrong with braces.

This particular dentist practiced what's now euphemistically called "sedation" - as in, "you're not going to want to stay awake for this."

So you'd regain consciousness, stumble out the door, ride home and with great trepidation peek into the mirror at the jumble of stainless steel that used to be your mouth.

Did you know that refrigerator magnets can actually stick to your jaw?

Steve Crump can be reached at 735-3223, or write to him at scrump@magicvalley.com