Every Sunday morning, at the crack of dawn, the New York Times arrives in my driveway. And every Sunday morning I try to resist the temptation to read the opinion pages because, as a general rule, I don’t like it when my head explodes. Which it does when I give in to the temptation and open the paper to what they simply call the “Sunday Review.” This is a two-word euphemism for a section that, if honesty mattered, would be called, “How many opinion pieces can we publish in order to trash the president, his supporters, his party, conservatives in general -- and still look like we’re not being mindlessly partisan but simply being reasonable.”
The New York Times Is the Worst
The New York Times Is the Worst
The New York Times Is the Worst
Every Sunday morning, at the crack of dawn, the New York Times arrives in my driveway. And every Sunday morning I try to resist the temptation to read the opinion pages because, as a general rule, I don’t like it when my head explodes. Which it does when I give in to the temptation and open the paper to what they simply call the “Sunday Review.” This is a two-word euphemism for a section that, if honesty mattered, would be called, “How many opinion pieces can we publish in order to trash the president, his supporters, his party, conservatives in general -- and still look like we’re not being mindlessly partisan but simply being reasonable.”