I HATE "THE NEW YORKER"

I have a secret. It's too shameful to admit. I can hardly spit it out but maybe it will be purging. I'll try...bear with me....I dread getting "The New Yorker". Oh Lord, I've said it, be merciful. It was a huge mistake, like my second divorce attorney. When I see yet another one in my mailbox my stomach sinks, my blood pressure rises and I get a rash. "Crap, not 'The New Yorker' again, I cry out!" The mailman thinks I'm nuts. "Didn't they just send one?! Why isn't this freaking subscription up already"? I'm tempted to throw it away, but stop myself and instead make a solemn vow I'll read it. Yes, more than just the cartoons. The subscription seemed like a good idea at the time. My Mother was taking a course on the magazine and my son was an avid reader. I felt stupid when they talked about articles and I had no knowledge of the subjects. I had to have in.

The articles are too long. And can anyone really see the print? A lethal combination for someone in a hurry with the attention span of a near sighted gnat. I always take a cursory look, a "yes", "no" as to what I want to read. Admitedly, and this is a tough admission I ixnay most of the magazine. It just doesn't seem that interesting. There I confess "IT DOESN'T SEEM THAT INTERESTING". Oh God, I'm an idiot. I had so much promise too. Wait a minute, hold on just one sec, for the record I did read a very long article on John Currin. I also entered the cartoon caption contest twice. I thought I'd win. I lost. Right now I have one "New Yorker" by my bed, one in my car and one on the floor of the bathroom. They're like roaches.

I've done this before. I subscribed to "The New York Review of Books" years ago. Each week I excitedly looked through the newest arrival and then put it in a drawer next to my bed for leisure reading. Fifty two weeks later I had a fire hazard. It was a day of intellectual reckoning when I threw them all away. I did it without therapy. I'm looking forward to the week my subscription to "The New Yorker" ends. I may have a little party. Cash bar, no food...maybe I do have promise.