The Case of the Dixon Deception.

A quiet evening, me blithely reading an article, half remembrance and half review, of those blue covered Hardy Boys books.  Fond childhood reading memories all around.  When:

One of the high points of my Hardy Boy reading days (fifth and sixth
grade) was when my father’s cousin gave me all his old Hardy Boy books,
which were in fact old books.  He’d inherited most of them
from an older cousin himself and these were all originals from the
1920s and 30s.  I had collected about a dozen of the newer, blue-spined
books by then, my dad’s cousin’s collection included seven or eight
brown-covered ones with actual grown-up book style paper dust jackets
from the 1950s, so my suddenly increased collection included about a
dozen more of the originals and I could tell the difference.  For one
thing, they were better written.  Oh sure, they included their fair
share of Tom Swiftys and Frank and Joe never just said
anything.  They exclaimed, they enthused, they whispered, they called
out, they ejaculated, a lot, and as soon as I learned that word’s other
meaning I wondered if Franklin.W. Dixon employed it so often because he
was trying to be funny or because he was a little bit strange.  (It
wasn’t until I stopped reading the books that I learned that there was
no one person writing the books named Franklin.W. Dixon.)

Um, what? 

(It
wasn’t until I stopped reading the books that I learned that there was
no one person writing the books named Franklin.W. Dixon.
)

Okay, I’m never reading anything ever again ever.  Goodbye, sweet innocence.  Today, I am a man.    

UPDATE: 

"That
man leaving here is certainly excited," said Joe Hardy to his older
brother Frank as they looked out of their second story bedroom window
and watched a mysterious man leave their home.

"Yes. And he only visited with Dad for a few minutes," exclaimed Frank. "He certainly came and went very quickly."

Next you’ll be telling me that the Master was in love with the Doctor.  Leave my dorky childhood alone!  (via)

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