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The Atlantic. Get ready to get down with Michelle Rhee, D.C. school chancellor, Bill Maher’s atheism and China’s image problems. The 151-year-old magazine addresses critical issues and champions, according to editor James Benet, “independent thinking.” Which means it’s guaranteed to send “Fox & Friends” into apoplexy.

It’s been four years since Plenty launched. The magazine has come a long way from the somewhat technically written tome with the appearance of a dull airline catalog, as it was described in an earlier review. It has evolved into a colorful, cleverly written and illustrated, yet still intelligent read.

By the time you read this, we’ll have a new president. Thankfully. I couldn’t take the carpet-bombing election coverage anymore. In short, we all need a visual break. Here’s one: Southwest Art. And this is some region to showcase: the deserts, the buttes, the forests. When the aliens landed, they could have popped into Times Square or parked on Boston Common. Instead, they chose Roswell, New Mexico? Just coincidence? I bet Southwest Art doesn’t think so.

Few magazine markets put the consumption in “consumer” quite like the automotive enthusiast field. So now that our long-term love of the internal-combustion engine is destroying our economy, our foreign policy, and even our planet, how does a car mag celebrate the machines that threaten to strangle us all?

A cover line on the new magazine LoftLife claims “foreclosures and rural seclusion may lead to a rebirth of city living.” Is this a subtle reference to squatting? Or will prices fall so much that an expensive loft, sheer luxury in Manhattan, becomes doable? And I don’t mean the housing equivalent of shopping at Sears. I mean a disgraced hedge-fund manager who squirreled away money in Treasury bonds and escaped prosecution can move in. A quick perusal of this lovely pub is a gentle reminder that the good life doesn’t come cheap.

A few minutes into my first read of Cigar Aficionado, I have but one burning question: Who the hell is Marvin R. Shanken, the mag’s editor and publisher? Talk about vanity rags — pictures of Shanken, an elderly bearded gentleman with a pudgy-mogul vibe, seem to be everywhere in CA’s pages….

I reviewed Sherman’s Travel in November 2006 soon after its debut. I was a fan of its informative articles, clean layout and upbeat style. Since it’s still here — and competing in a super-tough economic environment — it’s worth revisiting. Let’s see where the rubber hits the road.

The Ring is the bible of boxing. It has been for decades, and while the sport is lousy with belts, titles, idiotic rankings, The Ring is the one place you can go if you want to get anything like a legitimate ranking of who the top ten or so fighters are in each weight class, more or less.

Before there was Mad Men, there were Mad men — the “Usual Gang of Idiots” William Gaines and Harvey Kurtzman began assembling in 1952, when they started publishing a comic-book-sized humor magazine that eventually would help shape the sensibilities of several generations. In an industry fueled by hype, it’s hard to overestimate Mad’s effect on American culture.

Backpacker is a serious magazine for outdoors types — so as an indoor girl, I feel uniquely qualified to critique it. Since the market crashed, I’ve found solace at home, provided I’m not watching CNBC. Between the Dow ticker and Jim Cramer’s hysterical, bug-eyed outbursts, I now understand the virtue of leafy solitude. And for someone who considers Central Park country, it’s a leap. So I’ll let Backpacker lead the way.