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.
Friday, January 9, 2009
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Megan's foodie posts are always good for a laugh. For someone who tries to be so snobbish and authoritive, she sure doesn't have a clue. She actually wrote that brownies from scratch don't take that much longer to bake than ones from the box. Same with mashed potatoes. She never considers for a moment that perhaps a person with screeching children at their heels or someone at the end of a 15-hour work day might not be able to spare the "extra five minutes," especially when there are perfectly edible substitutes available. Nor does she consider the rural person who has a long way to get to the market for fresh vegetables that may need things that have a longer shelf life. She's just wrapped up in her own little spoiled cocoon.
And Megan doesn't use her fondue set that often, so you should throw yours away, no matter how much YOU use it.
She's never had thirty minutes between the end of after school activities and Boy Scouts, when you have to help with homework and sew on a patch and make dinner, all at the same time. Or gone to the grocery store with $20, that has to buy everything for dinner and the staples you use up every other day, like milk and bread.
The kids make the brownies from the box; it's easier for them, and me when I'm tired. Any mother who has a bar of chocolate sitting around (even unsweetened), has a lock on the fridge or cupboard. And she has to tell people that frozen dinners suck? We find that out when we're seven. We're supposed to run out and buy a very dodgy looking machine for potatoes? I probably have twice as many kitchen gadgets and appliances as Megan, and I know machines like the one she pictured often don't work well for long. And I also know the kids love the quesadilla maker, which was a gift, as such machines often are.
Obviously I could go on and on.
I forgot that bit about boiling potatoes in milk. Heh.
I'm not a mom, so I can't even begin to imagine the sacrifices you have to make with your personal time. Not just the activities required, but the distraction of the children themselves. A friend of mine threw a dinner party a couple of weeks ago, and I took her kids to the movies and the park while she was preparing. She said there was no way she could have pulled it off if I hadn't taken them out of her hair.
And I completely missed the boiling potatoes in milk part. She did not write that, did she?
There's no such thing as personal time, and I'm not even working right now. But I knew that going in. The fun will really start when I get a job.
"America imagined being forced to pay hospitals indefinitely and revolted, throwing their "ethics" out the window. Which shows us what would happen with abortion if men could become pregnant."
Definitely one of the funniest posts I have ever read.
Kudos to you, m'am.
Perhaps Megan actually does make everything super-quick in a fit of flour-flinging and mixing and such. It'd be funny to watch.
I see her as one of those Manhattanites who have 5'X7' galley kitchens, which they use only for the counters and the sink, the former for placing the espresso machine and the microwave, and the latter for rinsing out panty hose.
Megan's sort eat out or order in, every night.
(Maybe she tried to make dinner for a boyfriend once, couldn't get the congealed milk out of the potato pan the next day and swore off cooking ever since. But she still reads shiny food mags, and takes whatever they say as gospel.)
I was surprised and impressed to see her commenters mention Cooks, Illustrated. It's a marvelous ad-free food magazine that explains everything about cooking popular dishes. Megan could learn a lot from them and editor Christopher Kimball's writing skill.
But Megan could learn a lot from so many people.
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