Jesus. This article is like getting through a recipe blog. The first third (at leas, I didn’t make it further) is about the author’s knowledge of pennies.
I can only assume, as a person with a functioning brain who has lived on planet earth for nearly 50 years, that the pennies are not in fact trash but perfectly legal tender. I was hoping to find a line in this story to contradict its initial bold claim but…
The initial draft of the story I filed for a popular New York City–based publication was 20,000 words long. (Sadly, all of the best parts everyone would have loved were cut by my psychotic editor, whose No. 1 passion in life was removing 13,000 perfect words from my first drafts; I’m not worried about him reading these words, because a low-class butcher like that doesn’t possess enough humanity to subscribe to The Atlantic—though, if you happen to know William, I would thank you not to send him a gift link to this article.) And what I learned was that there was no sane reason why.
This article should be title: Journalism is Trash.
Jesus. This article is like getting through a recipe blog. The first third (at leas, I didn’t make it further) is about the author’s knowledge of pennies.
I can only assume, as a person with a functioning brain who has lived on planet earth for nearly 50 years, that the pennies are not in fact trash but perfectly legal tender. I was hoping to find a line in this story to contradict its initial bold claim but…
This article should be title: Journalism is Trash.
Reading through a recipe blog journalism is the lowest form of journalism