It's nearly over
It’s here at last: the long awaited FINAL NOTICE from Newsweek. I let the subscription lapse, oh, a year ago, and have waited patiently, dutifully recycling each weekly issue for pulping and transformation into more honestly labeled cardboard.
I first subscribed as an undergraduate, and I still recall the thrill of the successive weeks of Watergate covers in 1973. I stayed with it over the years, and I allowed for some hope when Jon Meacham took over the faltering magazine and attempted to turn it into something like an Atlantic for people with shorter attention spans—you know, like Slate.com in print.
But Mr. Meacham left, and the magazine was supposed to be transmogrified by Tina Brown, she who taught The New Yorker how to swear. I was not impressed by her early efforts and was even less impressed by subsequent ones. When I received the issue with Regis Philbin on the cover, I thought fleetingly about trying to get an injunction to stop the subscription, which is about the only way you can get a failing publication that is padding its numbers to cease delivery.
But now I have the FINAL NOTICE, and soon I expect to receive a series of further FINAL NOTICES—you know how the scheme works—until finally that blessed week will arrive when the recycling bin is a few pages lighter.