698 My New Yorker Subscription

The label says 15APR1805 which I hope is gobble-de-gook for sometime in mid-April this slip shod, yellow rag will stop coming through the mail slot. Several days ago a nice young man who is paid to invite me to re-up called and offered me another special. I told him "No, the magazine is an insult to anyone who isn't a left wing New Yorker," and should I go on. He sort of chuckled. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to give him an earful. He invited me to vent because, he said, they are supposed to get the subscribers' opinions.

It's not like I'd never read this magazine before subscribing. During the 90s, a friend passed hers along to me, and then I'd donate it to the Friends of the Library sale, so it had been recycled a few times before going to the dump. Now it goes direct--no stopping at the sale. I don't know what happened in the three years I didn't read it, but it is really worthless--unless you live in New York, donate to Move On Dot Org and read The Daily Kos for balanced and fair politics.

I'm only on page 8 of the January 10, 2005 issue. There is a cartoon of a little boy--maybe about 8 or 9--standing in front of a Mr. Milquetoast, WASPish type Dad, sitting in your basic suburban living room--lounge chair, end table with books, floor lamp, pictures on the wall, arched doorway, carpeted stairs to second floor, front door with privacy glass--you know the drill. Screams middleclass. The disgruntled kid looks at the floor and growls, "Unfortunately, the urine test counted for half of the grade." Whoopee. Now isn't that hilarious. Only in New York(er).