This post brought to you in the most roundabout way by Romancing the Blog (sidebar at left.)
I loathe inserts. LOATHE them. When I pick up a magazine and half its weight is comprised of those nasty little rectangular pieces of joy, I see red. Then I proceed to rip out each and every damn one.
That's been my pet peeve with Harlequin for decades. (Yeah, decades. I was a precocious teen.) Sure, it's great to win a free book or three...but at what price? Everytime I pick up the damn book to read, it flips open to THAT SPOT! Grrrrrrrrrrr
Then others hopped on the bandwagon. Sure. Get right on with that. Put in sixteen ways to become a subscriber or buy the latest doll that supposed to look like a real baby but in actuality scares the hell out of me because she looks like something that could go wrong at a rapid rate of speed. Very, very wrong.
I do NOT want forty-six catalogs sent to my house. My God! Do NOT send a packrat catalogs. I could order stuff from 1982 because I HAVE that issue. (It's a sickness. But I think I have it under control now. heh)
Okay. It's not THAT bad. But honestly, how many trees have to die for an issue of Cosmopolitan? Hundreds? Thousands?
There are saplings shivering in their dirt because they KNOW what fate will befall them. And it ain't pretty.
Put out money for a full page advertisement. Actually pay postage for catalogs that tell us ALL about your merchandise.
But QUIT flippin' sabotaging me and my reading pleasure!!!
And when it's in the middle of a good part?
Oh. My. God.
These "so-called" advertisers need to be shot. How can you read about the goodies when you're interrupted with an ad about something totally off the subject? And then you have to flip back. And then forward. Just to remember who was doing what to whom?
Despicable. Totally reprehensible.
1 month ago