The good news is that the New Yorker has shit-canned the Marabel Morgan of the 21st century, Caitlin Flanagan. (Rejoicing by Echidne and Pandagon.
The bad news is that ex-New Yorker writer, Jon Stewart-hatah and irritant-about-town Daphne Merkin has escaped the artistic Siberia of the style n fashion section, where she had been justly exiled, into the theatre section of the NYTimes. Another classic from Merkin - a worshipful Great Man of the Arts profile in the New Yorker mold, yet whiney too - why is Tom Stoppard so irritatingly content with his cushy Great Man of the Arts lifestyle? wonders Merkin.
With so many good, smart, feminist writers out there, why do these dipshits earn a good living by irritating me in the few mainstream media outlets I still patronize?