Sunday Bloody NYT Sunday: Special Tips For The Wealthy Edition

Sunday Bloody NYT Sunday: Special Tips For The Wealthy Edition
TRIGGER WARNING AND SPOILER ALERT: Both Maureen Dowd and Thomas Friedman appear to be on vacation and did not drop any pearls of wisdom all over this week’s Sunday New York Times. We are disappoint. Still here, though: Ross Douthat, so we’ll get by, God willing. Also, too, there are many things about Halloween, all of which we will ignore except to note that indeed if we did have a child we would dress it like an evil Chucky doll because otherwise what is the point of raising children?

Apparently when you raise children, it is generally assumed that you will provide then with some sort of rudimentary instruction in the ways of literacy, rather than just using them as a costume prop. Jesus, that sounds like work. They need special books, we guess, because they don’t seem to pick up the fine points of the English language by just leaving old Harold Robbins paperbacks around. So, if you possess an actual child, rather than a doll, you are perhaps considering buying Baby’s First Moby Dick for your wee ones:


While the BabyLit books do not try to lay out a complicated narrative of “Wuthering Heights” or “Romeo and Juliet,” they use the stories as a springboard to explain counting, colors or the concept of opposites. The popular “Cozy Classics” line of board books, introduced in 2012 by Simply Read Books, a publisher based in Vancouver, B.C., adapts stories like “Moby-Dick” and “Les Misérables” for infants and toddlers using pictures of needle-felted figures of Captain Ahab and Jean Valjean.

Little Asher and Ashley will simply SWOON over the chance to dunk little felt Jean Valjean into the toilet. Almost as good as a real sewer to run through! And who doesn’t want their child to play Captain Ahab at a young age? It is never too early to learn that your obsessions will kill you, right? If you want the little ones to be a bit more well-rounded, don’t just limit them to the written classics. There’s also an Art for Baby series. Your bouncing little bundles of joy can learn their ABCs while also learning that Damien Hirst is a blight upon humanity, thanks to the fact that someone, somewhere, thought it was a good idea to let him illustrate an alphabet bookwith his own execrable artwork. One of baby’s fondest memories will be remembering the first time he learned that “C” was for Creepy Overrated Formaldehyde Cow.


If you’re training up the little ones to become screenwriters one day, you need to let your little aspiring Joe Eszterhas know that zombies are passe, and eating your own is where it’s at:

At the Toronto International Film Festival in September, Eli Roth’s hungry-savages film, “The Green Inferno,” and Manuel Martín Cuenca’s dark love story “Cannibal” played to gore-loving crowds. Other releases this fall include “Butcher Boys,” an urban thriller based on Jonathan Swift’s satirical 18th-century essay “A Modest Proposal”; “The Colony,” about flesh-eating survivors of an apocalyptic attack; “We Are What We Are,” about a father and his cannibal children; the German-language “Cannibal Diner,” with young women on the menu; and “Evil Feed,” a comedy about a restaurant that serves the body parts of losing participants in an underground fighting ring.

Delish! Baby better get cracking on some sort of screenplay if baby is ever going to buy a respectable mansion right in the heart of the city, because when you are terribly rich you can be terrible and rich.

As more families choose to stay in New York City to raise their children, much of the urban fabric has transformed into scenes more closely resembling suburbia. For the truly wealthy, this is translating into a clamor to live in gigantic private homes. And when the record for the most expensive house ever sold in New York City is just $53 million, the nearly $100 million that many new luxury condominiums are asking makes these mansions seem like a relative bargain.

The demand for stand-alone mansions is also being driven by the rare opportunity they offer buyers for complete privacy and autonomy.

“The town-house buyer doesn’t want a multi-unit condominium that is mass-produced,” said Wendy Maitland, a senior managing director of sales at Town Residential, who just closed a deal on a town house at 45 East 74th Street for $26 million. “This is an entirely private home, built for the lifestyle of someone who has multiple staff, a private driver. These people do not need a doorman, and they aren’t sharing amenities.”

It’s lovely to live in the city, darling, but it is positively frightful to think of having to share a doorman with the commoners. Even worse is the thought that your condo could be just like someone else’s! THE HORROR. You are a very rich, very unique, very special snowflake and you should never ever EVER have to share amenities.


Before little junior/juniette can make it big in screenwriting, they’ll probably have to do an internship for free or some writing for exposure dollars, AKA for free. Yr Wonkette’s position on this is well-known:

If we do 20 posts a month for $10 each can we pay our utility and cel phone bills and a little bit of gas? Why yes, we can! If we do 20 posts a month for Exposure can we pay those bills? No, we can’t! Is our editrix a millionaire and does she pay Dok Zoom in ponies? No, she is not, and no, she does not (we don’t think)! Does Wonkette get 13 million views per month and whore itself out to Scientologists? No, it does not, which puts it in a very different financial position from the Atlantic. So yes, actually, in conclusion, our editrix can take the moral high ground because she is not taking the fruits of our labor and using it to pay Jeff Goldberg or buy ponies.

Message: we pay. That being said, if your little darling writes a few pieces for free for your rich friend’s kid that is starting up his own online ‘zine about eyelash jewelry, that may be stupid, but it is not actual slavery and there is no need for the clarion call of “Slaves of the Internet, Unite.”

NOT long ago, I received, in a single week, three (3) invitations to write an original piece for publication or give a prepared speech in exchange for no ($0.00) money. As with stinkbugs, it’s not any one instance of this request but their sheer number and relentlessness that make them so tiresome. It also makes composing a polite response a heroic exercise in restraint.

Perhaps we are explaining the obvious, but let us explain the fucking obvious. Being asked to write things for free by random people that you are perfectly able to turn down does not actually even remotely resemble slavery. You know what resembles slavery? SLAVERY. Jesus. Thank god we only have to get through Ross Douthat. If we had Dowd and Friedman still waiting in the wings, we’re not sure we could go on after this new depth of dumb.

Ross Douthat is still writing about Obamacare, which is probably the worst thing about Obamacare. We’d consider trading away the right to actually get healthcare if it meant Ross Douthat would shut his chinless yap. We’ve read through this thing a few times now, but we still aren’t sure what he is on about, to be honest. He flails around and throws oodles of numbers at us, mostly from the rollout in his home state of Connecticut. Some bit of actual knowledge has seeped into his skin through that dumb beard, and he appears to understand that yes some people will pay more money but that is because they previously had what can only be described as “spatula insurance” – enough to pay to scrape you off the pavement – before. But Ross thinks that maybe that is not so good:


Conservatives agree that these cheaper plans create more risk. But they also create a sensitivity to price — and with it, a curb on cost growth — that’s rare in a system where third-party payment has made prices opaque, arbitrary and inflated. And for a society that pretty clearly spends far too much on health care, sticking with catastrophic coverage frees up money — thousands for individuals and families, billions for the government — to spend on something other than the insurance-medical complex.

Yes, for some that money would ultimately get eaten up, and then some, by unexpected bills. But for others it might be money saved for retirement, money that pays for child care, money used to hire a contractor or buy a house.

All of these words are true, but that does not make them any less stupid. Yes, people are indeed sensitive to price because most of us are not unqualified thirty-somethings with cushy overpaid NYT columnist jobs that come with cadillac insurance, and therefore many people often have to make terrible choices like “I like food AND healthcare, but I need to eat right now, so no healthcare, I guess.” People don’t think of it as “freeing up money” for retirement or whiskey or whores. Generally, if you have scads of money, you have scads of insurance. We’re not even going to get into the idea that if you just get spatula coverage you simply pass your enormous catastrophic costs onto taxpayers who end up subsidizing your emergency room care because you all know that already, right? RIGHT.

We were going to write about the Style section’s (admittedly well-warranted) tongue bath of Ronan Farrow, but the Editrix threatened us with bodily harm because worshipping Ronan is her beat. Also, too, Lou Reed just passed away, so we’re going to go listen to this and not think about the New York Times the rest of the day. Rest in Peace, Lou.


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