Around the web a few particularly talented people share their wit and writing. Jeff Goldstein qualifies. He's the smarty-pants who finds satisfaction when the schoolmarms (male and female) get exercised. Ace is a writing stand-up comic except he sits and blogs, probably in his underpants. The Anchoress dissects the faulty logic of the left and elevates the dialog generally. When she is under the weather I find myself forlorn. And then there is James Lileks. When reading The Bleat, I think, "Man, I wish I could write like that."
He's funny and smart and poignant and interesting. He also used to have a column in a news paper. Paper. As in, made from trees. And he has been demoted, reassigned, to be a beat reporter. Can you imagine David Barry reporting on the latest drive-by shooting?
I can't help but wonder if James isn't of the right persuasion. You know, special in some way. You know, not a Leftist drone toiling away for the the media collective.
My husband asked, "Is he dying?" I said, "No." So this is not a mortal problem. In fact, if James is like many others, he'll end up being able to do his true passion somehow. The hubby is convinced he'll be picked up somewhere. I'm more pessimistic. I'm afraid that his job situation is just more evidence that if you have diverse opinions you have no place in the MSM.
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