Class Notes
The New Yorker|September 9, 2019
Class Notes
Calvin Trillin
Class Notes

There’s beaucoup news this month about the Class of 1993, topped by the happy tidings that Jack Beckerston, known to most of us as the Beckster, has finally been transferred from the United States Penitentiary in Atlanta to the less rigid Federal Correctional Institution near Marianna, Florida, which he describes as more comfortable than his freshman dorm. The new digs are an easy drive from the Gulf Coast, and the Beckster invites any ’93ers travelling in that area to drop by. (Visitor regulations and hours are available at fedcorrection.gov.) Ever the jokester—he has always maintained that what he refers to as “the socalled Ponzi scheme” was a prank— Jack added a P.S. to his letter which reads, “No hacksaws, please.”

An e-mail from Kimberly Connelly carries the disappointing news that her latest door-to-door beauty product, a cream for fighting cellulite, called CellNo-More, attracted the attention of the Food and Drug Administration, “and not in a pleasant way.” When all was said and done, Kimberly had to file for bankruptcy—her fourth. She plans to start again with a different cellulite fighting formula but with the same motto: “Keep those dimples on your face where they belong.” Investors welcome, as usual.

This story is from the September 9, 2019 edition of The New Yorker.

Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.

This story is from the September 9, 2019 edition of The New Yorker.

Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.

MORE STORIES FROM THE NEW YORKERView All
YULE RULES
The New Yorker

YULE RULES

“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”

time-read
6 mins  |
November 18, 2024
COLLISION COURSE
The New Yorker

COLLISION COURSE

In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.

time-read
8 mins  |
November 18, 2024
NEW CHAPTER
The New Yorker

NEW CHAPTER

Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?

time-read
10+ mins  |
November 18, 2024
STUCK ON YOU
The New Yorker

STUCK ON YOU

Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.

time-read
10+ mins  |
November 18, 2024
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
The New Yorker

HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG

Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.

time-read
10+ mins  |
November 18, 2024
REPRISE
The New Yorker

REPRISE

Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.

time-read
10 mins  |
November 18, 2024
WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?
The New Yorker

WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?

Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.

time-read
2 mins  |
November 18, 2024
COLOR INSTINCT
The New Yorker

COLOR INSTINCT

Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.

time-read
10+ mins  |
November 18, 2024
THE FAMILY PLAN
The New Yorker

THE FAMILY PLAN

The pro-life movement’ new playbook.

time-read
10+ mins  |
November 18, 2024
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
The New Yorker

President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.

On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.

time-read
8 mins  |
November 11, 2024