Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Hey Midwestern Dummy: Do You Get This Magazine Cover?
Good news, suckers that don't live on a coast: people are worried about us!
Specifically, Timothy Egan is worried about us. And worried about this cover of the New Yorker that I'm sure everyone has seen:
What is it the esteemed intellectual Mr. Egan is worried about?
Oh yes, it's time to worry about the poor, ig'nant old fly-over folk. After all, we're not as smart as those who live in New England or the Pacific Northwest. Not as culturally savvy, either. No, friends, we're pretty damned dumb. Regular egg-no-ram-uses. We don't understand that a magazine that is fairly famous for use of satire--and features a stable of writers that I would guess will vote for Obama at a 100% clip--would not actually be implying that Obama is a bin Laden-worshipping Muslim married to a militant Black Panther. No, we don't understand because we're too busy cleaning our rifles, going to church, and waiting for our next orders from Supreme Commander Rush Limbaugh*.
And we clearly don't have the sophisticated sense of humor to realize just how witty and funny this little passage is:
Ho ho ho, I say, old chap! That was a real zinger there, you old so-and-so! Facebook! Those poor hill-people in fly-over country will have to check the Internet to understand that little yarn you just wove! But wait--they're poor and uneducated! They don't have access to a PC or the like! Ha ha ha, indeed that was a woozy! Just a little joke that only you and I will ever understand. Oh, those poor saps with their gap-tooth grins and hideous flanels...they'll never be as intellectually stimulated as us, will they? At least this young man got the cover of that brilliant satire illustration on the New Yorker.
What a douche bag. It's so insulting it makes my blood boil. But that's just me. I'm guessing it does yours, as well, however. So fire away as you please.
*This sentence was sarcasm. Just in case someone from the coasts wandered into this little blog and got concerned.
Specifically, Timothy Egan is worried about us. And worried about this cover of the New Yorker that I'm sure everyone has seen:
What is it the esteemed intellectual Mr. Egan is worried about?
The furor over this week’s New Yorker cover — the satirical cartoon of Barack and Michelle Obama in Muslim and black-militant poses — boils down to this: We get it, but what will those folks in fly-over country think?
Oh yes, it's time to worry about the poor, ig'nant old fly-over folk. After all, we're not as smart as those who live in New England or the Pacific Northwest. Not as culturally savvy, either. No, friends, we're pretty damned dumb. Regular egg-no-ram-uses. We don't understand that a magazine that is fairly famous for use of satire--and features a stable of writers that I would guess will vote for Obama at a 100% clip--would not actually be implying that Obama is a bin Laden-worshipping Muslim married to a militant Black Panther. No, we don't understand because we're too busy cleaning our rifles, going to church, and waiting for our next orders from Supreme Commander Rush Limbaugh*.
And we clearly don't have the sophisticated sense of humor to realize just how witty and funny this little passage is:
Land Tawney, a fifth-generation Montanan with a gap-toothed smile, was wearing a plaid shirt and a camouflage cap atop his head. He belongs to Sportsmen for Obama, which sounds like Facebook Users for McCain, or Linguists for Bush.
Ho ho ho, I say, old chap! That was a real zinger there, you old so-and-so! Facebook! Those poor hill-people in fly-over country will have to check the Internet to understand that little yarn you just wove! But wait--they're poor and uneducated! They don't have access to a PC or the like! Ha ha ha, indeed that was a woozy! Just a little joke that only you and I will ever understand. Oh, those poor saps with their gap-tooth grins and hideous flanels...they'll never be as intellectually stimulated as us, will they? At least this young man got the cover of that brilliant satire illustration on the New Yorker.
What a douche bag. It's so insulting it makes my blood boil. But that's just me. I'm guessing it does yours, as well, however. So fire away as you please.
*This sentence was sarcasm. Just in case someone from the coasts wandered into this little blog and got concerned.
Labels: New York Times, Timothy Egan, Tired References to Fly-Over Country
Comments:
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That dude makes less than I do and I'm a summer intern. Writers for the elitist piece of drizzle that is the New Yorker are just bitter that they write for one of the more "esteemed" publications on the planet, but don't even make enough to live in the city after which the publication is named. I'd be pissed too if people paid $4.50 for the mass publication for which I wrote and I got paid in Dunkin' Donuts and fairy wishes.
In the few years I've been reading the New Yorker, I like it less and less. I don't know if it's me or them, but this whole cover thing has got me thinking the later. That and I can't stand the poetry they publish, but that's pretty much always been the case.
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