Speaking of the San Francisco Chronicle (see previous blog post), I told my girlfriend's grandmother Joann about how Carl Nolte's writing bothered me and how I theorized that the Chronicle needs to axe bad writers to stay alive.
She responded with something like, "Oh I love Carl Nolte! He's been a landmark staple of the Chronicle forever and everyone loves him!"
Shame on me. As I predicted.
Such a quintessential example of the battle between the old and the new, or the old and the young. Us young folk just want to kill newspapers with our iPhones and bludger old timer newspaper columnists with our immature wit.
...and eat babies.
Anyway, I explained to Joann that I wasn't trying to be evil, it was just that his writing was too embellished and reminded me of Pepperidge Farm cookie packages (and I'm supposed to be losing weight, so that doesn't help me at all).
Joann responded with something like, "Yeah, he does write that way. But we love him."
Fine. He can stay.
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