It’s summer in New York and the regular staff are gone. At the New Yorker some unfamiliar initials appear at the ends of pieces that sometimes stretch clever a little too far, and sometimes in interesting new directions. The stories are about traveling by air across Europe, or about finding decent entertainment if you’re stuck in the city like a junior staffer at the New Yorker. It’s a slim issue.
The cover reflects a trend that wouldn’t hit the memestream for about a decade- the city folk who want a little place in the country. Somebody has the money, as the “colored” cleaning lady explains to the young writer filling in for someone with famous initials. There are adverts for beer and portable beer coolers, and a keg-a-rator that will fit on a sailboat. And there’s an ad that will probably convince you that it’s for real right up until the end. The Onion, 1933 style.
King Boris III of Bulgaria- turns out he’s one of the real ones, but today he’s busy declaring martial law, like just about everyone else in Europe. Like Dollfuss in Austria, he’s doing his best to keep his country together after having to pay the price for being on the losing side of the big one.
And an ashtray that might have become a footnote in this weeks issue- missing you, Nephew!
stub it out here.