Thursday, June 10, 2004
Crap removed from this week's New Yorker:
I don't know whether I can take it any longer. I hear the howls of trees and draining of fossil fuels and cries of mail carriers in needless agony.
Yes, I'm a flipper. I must be able to flip smoothly and cleanly back-to-front and front-to-back in my magazines, with nothing making me pause and stare at an AIG ad or ponder the joys of owning a mini, or staying in some hotel. And certainly not subscribing to the New Yorker 15 more times, since I'm already a subscriber. I don't get it.
I removed 15 offensive items from this week's issue, several of them of booklet size, or even like toys (witness the milk carton and apple crap above).
Ah, well. The piece above I'm calling "Unintentional Collage," and calling it art, since I haven't done anything else today except rip shit out of magazines and drink coffee.
So will go back to what I was doing and catch up with you later. I have no desire to view Reagan's dead body for the next 48 hours.
Just curious... how much is all this costing us, the taxpayers, or is the RNC picking up the tab? When Jimmy Carter goes, will we have at least as much of a hoopla? He's a Nobel Prize winner, after all, and one of the most respected humanitarians on the planet, though admittedly no great shakes as a president. Hmmm... in death would his admin get the cosmetic uplift that Ronnie's has?
Please, god, let it not be soon, however, since he's doing too much good work in the here and now.
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