The New York Times

First, it strikes me that the usual type I see still carrying the hard-copy of the thing around here in New Paltz are members of a category that I call the squirrel men. (With apologies to all non-squirrel men who carry the thing around.)

Next, it grows harder and harder to visit the net version, even for a few moments. I’ll compare that experience to going into a well-hyped restaurant where the haughty to indifferent service tells you by its manner not to even think about the mediocre food — don’t expect to enjoy it and don’t dare to dislike it — or the high prices on the menu. And when you leave, the meal sits heavy in your stomach, such that you wake up in the middle of the night thinking that a sour brick is dissolving in you digestive tract.

Finally, don’t dare word of mouth the thing as depressingly ideological and stupid, because that is so so so at odds with the way the thing contemplates itself and the way it hypes itself in its depressingly stupid television ads. (“It’s like having a table of contents for the world!”? It’s like having a table of contents to the frightening corporate diktat and the smell of the bad carpeting that permeate its Manhattan offices, is more like it.)

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