The literary Overdogs in all corners of the palace are rampant hypocrites. I've given three examples of this the last two weeks.
First we saw the concerned "Leftists" at the NATION on their annual luxury cruise pigout binge to the Bahamas.
Next, a look at the laissez-faire advocates at NEW CRITERION, who sustain themselves via tax shelter life support; i.e., welfare.
Third is uber-WASP "Lefty" writer Ana Marie Cox (who counts MOTHER JONES on her resume) eagerly grabbing her payoff from the monopolistic conglomerates.
They're all hypocrites; all fakes; all out-of-touch aristocrats.
It matters because American literature is in the grasp of these folks. They live in a world of themselves, hearing only their own glittering opinions-- sometimes intense debates within their glamorous rooms at the top of the pyramid-- their ideas dressed in metaphorical robes of silver and gold. But far below them moves the mass of the American public; this society's life force. As Overdog overseers of literature are cut off from America, as they move through their wine bars and cruises, so also is literature cut off from the life blood of American culture. We witness as a result the draining of literature of authenticity and relevance, leaving an embalmed, decayed, and useless corpse.