Know when it's over

After seven and a half years, and 117 issues, we put the 3-​cent maga­zine to rest with a final monster edition of 24 pages, a length intended to satisfy outstand­ing subsrip­tion balances of two years and more. It was dated 20 Janu­ary 1980, Sunday of the same week that smug­glers were discov­ered conceal­ing Mercedes Benzes in the desert sands of Arabia and that “Why Should the Father Bother” hit number 18 on the Born Again Hit Parade; the week the Cana­dian Civil Defense Comman­der told the nation there was noth­ing to fear from a nuclear attack “as long as they don’t attack at night, or by surprise.” We put these inter­est­ing facts into the farewell essay because they had come to our atten­tion while it was being composed: 3-​Cent Pulp was noth­ing if not aleatory: the pure prod­uct of chance oper­a­tions. “We are getting old,” I wrote, in 1980, when I had achieved the advanced age of 33, “and lack­ing a bureau­cracy with its feck­less capac­ity for regen­er­a­tion, we want to have a rest and dry out for a while.”

The seven­ties had ended.

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