The Batty Old Grey Lady
August 24, 2012 Leave a comment
The New York Times, often referred to as “the newspaper of record” is facing a backlash: first for having foolishly published that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, then for being the media arm of a so-called liberal elite from New England. But what has the New York Times become, except reduced to its ridiculous Style section, modelling fashion out of its Food section and never really crack any story? Our contributor Neal Pierantoni takes a nostalgic look at an old friend.
The New York Times and I have had a tumultuous relationship. The initial liberation from the American 24-hour television news machine was exhilarating. Well-written unbiased journalism was the breath of fresh air I needed. It was a lifeline to the civilized world when I found myself back in Appalachia, working a mind numbing 9 to 5 and plotting my escape to a world of bigger and better things.
“Sometimes the Gray Lady reminds me of my status subservient to hers: she is the Lady, and I her lowly serf and subject. Articles like What You Get for … $400,000 were clearly not written for my demographic.”
Then I began to notice those irritating little things that make you go from madly in love to plotting their painful demise. Sometimes the Gray Lady reminds me of my status subservient to hers: she is the Lady, and I her lowly serf and subject. Articles like What You Get for … $400,000 were clearly not written for my demographic. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m not occupying Wall Street or anything, but I’m certainly not envisioning occupying half-million dollar homes anytime this century. I could forgive this of m’lady because, well, this is the newspaper of Mahattanites, the upper crust of journalism for the upper crust of society. Who am I to judge?
Then things just started getting weird. The Gray Lady started forgetting to put her dentures in before leaving the house. She started accepting writings about things that were either so irrelevant or so obvious that it leaves you wondering what she was thinking.
“It irks me though, that these puff pieces that try to humanize the friendly neighborhood homosexual for the average American citizen just turn out so incredibly vapid.”
Gay guys are going to see Magic Mike? No shit, Sherlock. Obviously this is “news that’s fit to print.” Maybe the Euro crisis was having a lull that week? No one getting shot in Syria? Colorado? Well let’s just make sure that everyone remembers that 1) the gays live in Chelsea 2) they like well-built, scantily clad men 3) they love turning Magic Mike into the new Rocky Horror and getting well-built, scantily clad men to act out the film in the theater, during the film. If no one is doing that yet, you really should. Call me. I will patronize the shit out of that.
You know those gay couples? With their gay marriages? And their gay agendas? Their gay relatives gay bash them and give them gay guilt trips asking them gay questions like “When are you going to start giving me grandgaybies?!” Just like regular people! Isn’t that grand? I you haven’t noticed, I read about my people on the regular; sorry for the bias. It irks me though, that these puff pieces that try to humanize the friendly neighborhood homosexual for the average American citizen just turn out so incredibly vapid.
People just go to open houses for baked goods and to see what their neighbor’s houses look like, because no one talks to their
neighbors in New York, or so I’m led to believe. Great journalism. Whose wife is the real estate agent that needed to begin this social discussion so that she could stop wasting her Sundays holding open houses and making muffins? Girl’s gotta get her nails did, she has better things to do with her weekends that spend it with schmucks she knows ain’t buyin’. I hope they don’t do away with open houses though. I have not gone on nearly enough of them. It’s one of my favorite things on my gay agenda.
The New York Times is turning into my theoretical grandma with Alzheimer’s. I don’t have it in me to correct her, because most of the time she’s with it; but when she’s off her rocker? Hoo boy watch out because you are in for 8 pages of WTF did I just read about and who do I contact to get my free time back?
For more of the crazy stuff the New York Times is publishing, follow @NYTOnIt on Twitter
Neal Pierantoni is a twenty-something freelance translator/interpreter. Born and bred in the rolling Pocono Mountains, Neal went on to study international relations at the American University of Paris and is currently pursuing his master’s at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. He likes bonfires, be they on beaches or in woodland clearings, as well as feigning athleticism so as not to appear as lazy as he inherently is.