I used to read the New Yorker, years ago, I don't know what changed, me or them. Much of what they publish now comes across as self-pity, I don't have time in my life for that.

Same as McSweeney's, I used to read it and I thought it was funny and now I read it and it comes across as self-pity.

Give me decorative gourd season any time, but pieces where people complain about the things they haven't done aren't worth my time.

Something new, please.