Okrent: Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me

You know, my problem with Daniel Okrent was never that he was small-minded, petty, or wrong a lot. Though he was of course all those things.

My problem with him is that he’s supposedly the watchdog for the most powerful newspaper in the country, and he seems to have spent most of the time holed up in his office with a magic mirror asking “Who’s the fairest of them all? You, that’s right, you sexy beast!”

“I have a theory. Over the last few weeks, people were taking me out to lunch, being so gracious to me, I was beginning to worry I would miss this job,” he says. “So on some subconscious level—and I do mean subconscious—maybe I thought I’d write something so that they’ll be glad I’m leaving.”

So let’s make sure we’ve got that straight. You gratuitously attacked a columnist to make your soon-to-be former colleagues bear the devastating impact of your approaching loss (the horror, that they should have to go a day without seeing your shining visage, reading your sterling prose) with more stoicism? And to make yourself feel better?

Are you kidding me?

Krugman should sue his ass.

A.

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