The world is full of journalists. A very small number of the world’s journalists get paid actual money to write articles in which they loftily explain things which they know virtually nothing–and probably couldn’t care less–about. Some people are perfectly comfortable reading these articles. I am not one of those people, because frankly, I was done reading half-assed hot air expelled from arrogant, old, white writers’ various orifices quite a few years ago. Unfortunately more self-congratulatory pablum is birthed into cyberspace each day, and “Asphyxiation by NYT Op-Ed-Meme Avalanche” has emerged as a leading cause of death among my age demographic.
This is the point where I would make some reference to how things were “back in the day,” if that were a reference that even made sense here. But I’m not going to talk about how things were different years ago, because asshats like this have been explaining my own fucking life to me in one form or another since basically the beginning of print media. Back in the day, we called the guys who write these articles “journalists.” Now, we still fucking call them “journalists.” And honestly, I can’t even keep this parody shit up anymore, because I’m so done.
Stating that someone has “eyes…like black mirrors” is a very nearly a verbatim Jack Donaghy quote from 30 Rock, not something you write in earnest about other human beings in a major print outlet.