The WASPy Overclass

As America wakes up to hard times-- its nostalgic global-warming glow a thing of the past-- is there anything more anachronistic and irrelevant than the literary establishment? "Rick" and "Dave," "Miranda" and "Jon" and "Jay" continue to circulate moodily through their successions of wine-tastings and cocktail parties, as isolated and bovinely stupid as a forgotten powder-wig aristocracy. Events of our times are passing them by. The preppy writers resemble the plastically-preserved residents of a defunct museum. They represent a corrupt and dwindling Age of Money. How long will they be able to get by on their quaint charm and childish posturing?