The New Yorker magazine is a contradiction. This is evident in the Richard Brody review of the new film version of the classic Ayn Rand novel, "Atlas Shrugged." Brody accuses the film, the book, and Rand herself of being filled with "smug self-satisfaction" and "sneers and smears." Yet his short review is nothing more than a smear-- one giant sneer. Strange that he can't see this.
In the same April 18th issue, George Packer in "Talk of the Town" discusses budget "fairness." The very next piece is a glowing celebration of Gwyneth Paltrow's latest career in the food business. Paltrow, of course, is a well-connected aristocrat who's been able to do anything she wants whenever she wants to-- with middling success-- actress, country singer, now chef. Her entire life is a study in inequality, privilege, unfairness.
The contradiction is that the New Yorker magazine is a tribute to unfairness. Its core audience is America's-- or the world's-- top 2%. Every page of every issue is a glowing example of "smug self-satisfaction." yet apparently these people can't be upfront to themselves. They seem to only be able to exist with an ill-fitting facade of "fairness" laughably out of place with their glossy presentation.