There was a time, probably, when aNew Yorkerjournalistic profile was a very interesting thing to read. Maybe the noted figures of politics or media or sport were just a lot more interesting themselves, in the vague "sometime in the past" era we vaguely recall? Maybe the
If Harry Reid listens to the Grateful Dead there is footage of him somewhere twirling around in a tie-dyed shirt taking a bong hit. But did the New Yorker make an effort to find this obvious footage? Nooooooooooo.
I heard Patti Smith over the sound system at Kroger's a couple of weeks ago. This made me ponder and weep at the same time.
If Harry Reid listens to the Grateful Dead there is footage of him somewhere twirling around in a tie-dyed shirt taking a bong hit. But did the New Yorker make an effort to find this obvious footage? Nooooooooooo.
"Out on the road today/ I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac"
Never did I think I'd identify with Don Henley.
I'm in denial and sobbing on the inside. I didn't hurt myself today or anything.