The King of Retired Amusements takes possession of Liebling’s Sunday Morning Carnival and Midway, and is undone by expired hot dogs and faulty rides while his entourage pursue their own quests.
A standard New Yorker story masquerading as a droll fantastical set piece with a bi of whiz-bang and not a lot of meat to pick at. This July 2016 issue of “The New Yorker” is interesting more for its dismissive pieces about the guy who is certainly not going to be elected president, minimizing the fascist authoritarianism already on display, which reminds me that maybe I should cancel my New Yorker subscription since I get around to the stories often far after the issue comes out and their political and cultural articles tend to be absolute shit.