Minutes ago I picked up my home phone. The "caller" was a recorded message. The unheeding voice said, "We hope you are enjoying our holiday catazine you received in the mail."
Of course! It must be a combination catalog-magazine. And here I had thought it was only a catalog from our 11-year-old daughter’s favorite store.
To see what I had missed, I just walked into the living room and flipped through the pile of what I had thought were catalogs. I found our daughter’s favorite. Let’s see . . . no fiction, no features, no greetings from the editor, no reader letters, no classifieds, no advice column–just pictures of clothes and baubles for sale to young girls and their parents.
Catazine? Nope, it’s a catalog. Until it changes, let’s refuse to call it anything else.