I’ve Had Just About ENOUGH Of The New York Times
What the f*ck is wrong with The New York Times lately? (And by lately, I mean for the last dozen years or so.) It’s like a Pregnant in Heels episode when it comes to its coverage of the modern family.
Uh, I don’t know if you excruciatingly homogeneous arteesinal cheese and Brooklyn-loving Times reporters have noticed but a lot of your readers can’t afford a summer vacay (maybe even rent) and you are starting to piss off even volvo-driving quiche-eaters with this shit.
In the last two months, The Times has served up an insufficiently ironic serving of American parenting coverage, including but not limited to:
- the awesomeness of $250,000 treehouses
- parents buying their kids starter apartments
- the efficacy of hiring bazillion-dollar private tutors
- anything by Lisa Belkin but especially that interview with the author of that evil Art of Roughhousing manual.
- and now chartered jet chauffeurs to get to sleep-away camp.
What happened to covering the WHOLE gamut of families: not just the outer edges?How about the dwindling MIDDLE-CLASS? It’s either families living under bridges (and not enough of those) or the gilded lives of oil barons and defense systems manufacturers.
I’m telling you this for your own good. Your style and house and home sections SUCK because you still take yourselves as seriously as in straight news and you shouldn’t. Look to Gothamist as your guide (I know you do!). You need an injection of levity. Try cultivating the ability to laugh at yourselves lest you become a laughing stock. Try a tongue in the cheek instead of bone dry reportage. It demeans all the actual great, real news reporting you do do, New York Times.
I tried to get the few Times reporters I know to weigh in but they’re too busy on our Brooklyn Prospect listserv debating our middle school’s new uniform policy and what footwear is permissible.
I’m about ready to pull out a pitchfork and shove it up your arses at the next opportunity: which could be either school drop-off, Starbucks, or the next PTA meeting because, yes, you ALL live in Brownstone Brooklyn.
I was willing to forgive and forget the Judy Miller debacle but I don’t know if I can forgive you this.
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