20 January 2011
Dear Dr. Bones,
(1) It is not very tasty (is it?) for a leftover from the Seventh, I think it was, International to abuse other people’s fishwrappers as old-fashioned.
(2) This particular gentlebein’ has perverted so often that it would be no wonder if he is never quite sure which direction is ideologically up on the planet _du jour_. To an impartial neocomradologist looking in from beyond the asylum perimeter, however, it is quite plain that _The New Republic_ is a secret-sector business corporation exactly on a par with ScroogeBank, or H*rv*rd, or the Warbucks Widget Trust LLC [*], which means that for a Wolnomozny Pan Radoszcz to attempt to edit it by remote control is sheer impertinence. [**]
¡Happy days! (through affordable healthcare)
[*] One may not legitimately invoke the unprofitability of The Weekly Peretz as evidence that it somehow is "not really a business." Where would America’s Moonpaper be, by that far-too-rigorous standard?
Turning from Lady Cynthia in the sky with diehards to the Big Picture right here in Hooverville, you should always remind yourself, sir, when watching the song-an’-dance of Massa Tom Donohue an’ the Chambermaids of Commerce -- or, closer to Pajama Junction NJ, the solo striptease of Neocomrade Th. X. Blumer, who "owns a training and development company based in Mason, Ohio, outside of Cincinnati [an’] presents personal finance-related workshops and speeches at companiest," -- that, even if it be the case that most new jobs are created in pettybusiness as opposed to Big Management proper, pettybiz is also where most jobs terminate, often without the Samuel Joseph, Freelord of Wurzelbacher, wannabe in question havin’ attained to colorblind ink for even a single quarter.
[**] Sometimes -- not often, but not never either -- the quaint neodogmata of Kiddie Selfservatism work in our favor rather than the kiddies’ own. Wherefore they mun alle singen, "Life is unfair."