Hello New Yorker,

I like your magazine. I like the poems, I like the short stories, I like the long news pieces, and the occasionally uproarious cartoons. Seeing your magazine also fills me with a bit of nostalgia as my friend A has been reading it religiously over his morning cup of tea since our college days.

Generally speaking, I also like satire. Voltaire is perhaps my favorite French playwright. Even so, I can't imagine what you were thinking with your most recent cover. It does not follow the conventions of satire since it is not highlighting or representing anything true, and it does not debunk, but instead underlines the pervasive and pervasively believed lies about the embattled Democratic nominee.

I assume this was not a hit job on your part since your readership will, almost to a person, be voting for Obama. Instead, it seems to be a display of the massive hubris of a certain class of smart, but tragically un-savvy American voters, as well as a profound disconnection from and misunderstanding of the way that politics and political discourse works.

In short, this is a prime example of arrogance + ignorance. A deadly equation under any circumstances, not to mention during the most important presidential campaign in recent history. I know you may have thought that in the end this equation would = wit, but I'm afraid you were wrong. Quite. Let me add my voice to the many who will seek to disabuse you of your egg-headed delusion.

Your recent cover is the editorial equivalent of accidentally shooting your unsuspecting friend in the face. Now, the entire Democratic party is along for the ride to the hospital and we'll be stuck, languishing in emergency, for the next several news cycles.

The upside is that you, dear New Yorker, will sell this issue. Yes, indeed. Not for the 18 pg. article about Obama-the-organizer that's inside -- nobody that hasn't been reading the New Yorker for years is gonna take the time for that one. Instead, it will be so that folks who have rarely been acquainted with your text-heavy layout can rip off the cover and display the pretty color picture in all it's contextual glory on their garage walls next to confederate flags or, as the splash screen that provokes a giggle on the way to the home page set to the National Review Online.

Way to go, guys!

I tell you what, with friends like these we won't even have to wait for 'the terrorists' to come get us, we can just hold up at home, go about our business, and feign surprise when a wayward, well-meaning, know-it-all cousin spazzes out in a violent orgy of geeky laughter, throws an elbow, and accidentally knocks us down the stairs.

Thanks New Yorker, for reminding us all of how practically stupid being an intellectual snob can really make you. A cautionary tale that many, obviously, need to hear before the final leg of this campaign robs us of any room for dumb-ass, mass produced gaffes like this.

Sincerely,
yldoow