'The New Yorker' Now Featuring The Old Lady In Dubuque's Hooters
There was a time when you could be sure of two things about The New Yorker: you weren't going to understand the cartoons and your delicate sensibilities wouldn't be offended by common vulgarity. Well, the cartoons may still be hard to understand (as it turns out, they make more sense with no captions at all), but the shocking rush to contemporary mores may leave you feeling a bit disgruntled. It was bad enough when Matt Klamm broke the "fuck" barrier with his story "Sam the Cat," but this week the brainchild of Harold Ross, James Thurber, Dorothy Parker and a host of other famous dead literary types has a whole page full of Playboy centerfolds. Sadly, the pictures are not available on line, but if you've got $5, you can buy a copy for yourself and turn directly to page 145. Or, you know, you can get two York Peppermint Patties and the latest issue of Dripping Hot Snatches. This is 2006: naked lady pictures are either cheap or free. Oh, David Remnick, where were you twenty years ago, when we actually could have used this?
