Fire Megan McArdle, bless them, notes that Megan McArdle has been blogging for The Atlantic for a year now, and I wish to offer my hearty congratulations. When David Bradley scoured the East Coast for the most talented, intelligent people he could buy for a pony, who knew we would be graced with such as Our Megan? With her English degree from the University of Pennsylvania and MBA from the University of Chicago, she has placed her own special brand on econoblogging. McArdle has an utterly unique perspective as a Irish Lapsed-Catholic Upper West Sider, who spent her entire life on its vibrant city streets and leafy parks. While the life of, basically, anyone else is a mystery to her, she is still able to read the economic tea leaves and distinguish between the Real Americans and the selfish, elite auto workers of the Heartland. Although gifted with the knowledge that comes from growing up in the center of the cultural universe, Manhattan, she does not hesitate to spread its wealth to less fortunate mortals, informing them that New Yorkers routinely use pounds of fat in cooking, prefer meat without freezer burn, and don't drink cooking sherry.
But make no mistake, McArdle is a modest woman despite her accomplishments. She frequently laments the benefits and popularity of people who are very tall and thin, like herself. It worries her that others find her body type to be an ideal. She also has enormous sympathy for the downtrodden, such as Wall Street bankers who find themselves in great difficulty. In fact McArdle is tireless in her devotion to the support of Wall Street bankers, while still able to wag a finger at their more naughty antics. She is also very patriotic, and supports all American endeavors, no matter how reluctantly. Although she forgot to register to vote this year, McArdle even supports the president-elect, and her immediate disappointment in him is very distressing to her.
So congratulations, Megan McArdle, and the best of luck in your future endeavors, as you document the depression from your perch at your neighborhood bar, downing gin and tonics and merrily blogging about torture and porn, for our benefit and edification.