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Year old NYers

I started the madness about a year behind on my NYer subscription, stacked up on my nightstand. Home for every shit, I’m catching up now.  

It’s a relief, in some sense, to be that far behind, pre-whatever-this-is.  I don’t have to read a 20,000 word piece on Pete Buttagieg (whatever).  Saved myself that brainspace. If you’re a year behind, you know that he didn’t win and you can look at the cartoons and move on.  I’d rather read a “50,000 word piece on zinc”.  

Everything else in the mag is just as relevant as it was.

It’s even easier now. I know everything they’re wrong about. I wonder which things I read in the current in the current issue are completely wrong. I read less of the daily NYer because of that.

Now I read the restaraunt reviews (why no more bar reviews – what happened there?), and know there will be no trip to NYC in the foreseeable future to try any of them, and they’ll all have closed anyway.

The most enduring sensation is “these people have no idea what’s coming”.  I feel regret for the writers, and who they were then.  So much effort expended on things that don’t matter. “These people” are of course me a year ago.