Andrew Ferguson Gets Scared Straight

For several years I enjoyed an affiliation with a “lifestyle” magazine that specialized in the toys and enthusiasms of the well-to-do. As a result my email address fell into the twitchy fingers of several thousand—or so it seems to me—public relations firms with names like Chill Strategics and ChikLixPR. My relationship with the magazine ended before the magazine itself died a lingering death, but I’m not telling the PR people that. Their emails, pitching me stories about complicated kitchenwares, advanced mindfulness techniques, or a rare yak-skin cowling custom-designed for one of my private planes, are by far the most interesting communications anyone ever sends me.