Caxton's Shame

These days, I only read two magazines: Fortean Times and The Economist, both of which are about the paranormal and the unexplained. Other journals and periodicals are, apparently, exclusively concerned with the monstrous egos of those who contribute to their mind-numbing pages, and I am not interested in insulting my mind by forcing it to concentrate on such tedious subjects.

I once subscribed to at least seven or eight weeklies and monthlies, even when most of their content was already free on the Internet, but you can only read the same article rehashed over and over again so many times before you think to yourself: "UFOs are more interesting that whatever these columnists have to say, and more believable too."

The New Criterion used to be good before it turned into a pompous version of The National Review without any pictures; Harpers was thought provoking, but now it sort of reads like the paranoid ramblings of an atheist priest; and The National Interest simply isn't interesting. Quite frankly, I'd rather read a desperate blog written by some unhappy fat woman who can't stop eating cupcakes and chocolate fudge. Meanwhile, I am busy composing a letter to the editor of Angling Times demanding that he dramatically reduce the number of articles about carp fishing in Gloucestershire ponds, or else I will definitely not renew.

 

Comments

[Carter]

I recently let my subscription to the New Criterion lapse because it had become so dull, and had been so long since I was inspired to read any book discussed in its pages.

[Fight Club Jacket]

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