Take notes. I’ve been waiting for this one. This is a “home for the holiday” piece and I can get that in Teen Vogue. Thank you. A publication that is impotent. The New York Times, award-winner of journalism goes to see a show cuz it gives them a new perspective. Give me a break. Did you take the bus. Did the Times Square Tourist Committee approve. Reading this is not unlike taking a sleeping pill. The New York Times wants it both ways and both ways. No one gets it both ways. No one. The New York Times is a follower, not a leader. Every single time I am critical of the NYT, they kick me into the street. Don’t believe one patronizing word they say. I now cannot believe one word coming from anyone there.

Are we all supposed to play merry Christmas now. I do not know anything about these characters. You lost me. We could assign colors to all minorities, but I think this culture of death and death and death already did that. I am not the Monstrosity. I am a writer. I know when you’re treading water. This paper is treading water. There is not even the hint of a whisper that we can resist. It would have been good to know what our options are. We can click our heels together, the Monstrosity will disappear like in a movie. Life is not a movie. Life is war, starvation, blood, bodies, disease and working for the Boss Man. But no. I see no photograph of a suit. What does NYT even know about the resistance. The New York Times is in grief and impotent. Click, click, click.