All things must end, and Fred on Everything just has. This will be the last
regular column, although the site will stay up and I'll add things from time
to time as the mood urges.
The reasons for this disappearance are several. One is that writing the thing
is a lot of work for no remuneration. I don't say this in complaint. Nobody
asked me to write FOE, and I have enjoyed doing it. However, the economy being
what it is, any writing I do in future will be for money. Crass commercialism
has its uses.
More immediately, I am shortly going to Johns Hopkins for a corneal transplant,
this being the belated result of a largely forgotten foray by the US into military
adventurism. The result will be several months during which I will not be able
to write except by dictation, which is preposterous. Now is a good time to
bow out.
My reasons for inditing the sucker were, first, to see whether a web column
could work and, second, to get away from the strangling grasp of political
correctness. A third reason, common I suppose to most columnists, was the hope
that, however minor my voice might be, in combination with thousands of others
it might engender pressure for slowing the rush into the high-tech medieval
twilight that the culture has undertaken.
This by now is clearly quixotic. The civilizational changes we now see are
both irremediable and beyond control. The peasantrification and empty glitter
of society, pervasive hostility to careful thought, onrushing authoritarianism,
and distaste for cultivation are now endemic. I do not know where these lead,
but we are assuredly going to get there. Fuming buys nothing.
I have just turned 63. Judging by familial history I have ten to fifteen years
left on the planet. I have no intention of spending them railing against the
inevitable. Books need my reading when I again can, sunsets my supervision,
Padre Kino my drinking. Nepal, I am persuaded, cannot survive without my doing
some serious trekking over it. I cannot let an entire country die for want
of my attention. There are crazy friends from distant times and far places
with whom I need to eat noodles in various remote back streets and tell lies.
Equally crazy daughters require my time. And I require theirs.
I thank my readers over the years, including those who gave me hell. You are
a bright and wacky group, no two alike. If a writer can be judged by his audience,
I have done well indeed. Starting in perhaps four months, any who wish can
check the site, and welcome.
Fred, out.
Fred On Everything
ha
Buy Fred's New Collection of Sedition
and Outrage!
"Despicable. Without redeeming features":
New York Preview of Books "Fred be discriminate!":
Al Sharpton "Fred--that ugh!man--is the ideological
equivalent of the Hillside Strangler": The American Feminist
"Fred deserves his own entry in the DSM V": Psychology
Today
Or, for a book whose purchase
will probably get you on Homeland Security's no-fly list, click here
and those scoundrels at Amazon will send it to you in a plain brown
wrapper marked "Sex Books" to protect your reputation. Sordid
wit, literary grunge, nothing a civilized person would read. But you
came to this site, didn't you? Ha. Gotcha.
Note:
If emailing, do not remove the slashes that appear in the subject
line as otherwise, to avoid spam, your email will be heartlessly auto-deleted.
Other
Note: I try to read all letters, but simply cannot
respond to hundreds of emails. Neither rudeness nor delusional self-importance
is involved. Just can't do it. My apologies.
See?
You are not alone.
Which
may or may not be a good thing. At any rate, there are other twisted,
brain-fried wackos out there who have too much time on their hands
and read this stuff, probably while cleaning their guns. But don't
worry. This site wraps its IP packets in plain brown envelopes marked
"Kinky Books" so your neighbors won't know. Anyway, to the
extent that counters mean any thing, which isn't much of an extent,
this sucker gives the number of columns read, not counting subscribers,
since Monday, October 8, 2002. Whoopee-do. More or less.
Nekkid
in Austin
Buy Fred's reprehensible
book, Nekkid In Austin! Amazon has the beast. Another collection of
outrages, irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry from Fred On Everything
and some innocent magazines that foolishly published him. Put Fred Reed
in the search at thingy at Amazon and the book will pop up like mushrooms
on a decaying stump. Tell everyone you came to the site by mistake while
searching for articles on cannibalism. Your childhood made you do it.
We're all victims nowadays.
The Great
Possum-Squashing and Beer Storm of 1962
Stock up. Christmas will
eventually come again, if it isn't outlawed.Possum-Squashingis a better present than an ugly tie. At least as good anyway.
