In former times it was a simple place,
Where one could read without a blushing face,
With thickly bound and edifying titles,
Like Noble Greeks, and red highlighted Bibles,
And Shakespeare (sans Andronicus), and Mark Twain,
Whose humor, though defiant, was humane.
Today it’s more permissive, and diverse,
Though who’s to say it’s better, or it’s worse.
Now crammed beside the Good Book, mere shelves over,
Are bloody tales as chilling as October,
And novelettes as lurid as those scenes
Displayed in certain grownup magazines.
—J. P. Celia
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Mad as Hell
In a simpler time, the internet was full of cats. Flooding message boards and YouTube with images…
The Founders and the Common Good
The dominant public philosophy among American elites is modern liberalism, often referred to merely as “liberalism.” Two…
The Enemy Within
The Information State is one of the most important books of the twenty-first century. In a virtuoso…
