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Why I Hate the South

I was raised in Tallahassee, Florida, where the University football team the Seminoles and their apotheosized car-dealership pitching, crimson-necked coach, Bobby Bowden, was about as close to Jesus as one can get. And between games, I grew up, alternately beaten up for being a Christ killer, or getting evangelized.

Letter to a Young Blowhard

My dear young blowhard, As I’ve said to you before, there’s never been a more propitious time to be a huffing, puffing, middle-of-the-road blowhard. This is the hour of the pundit, my friend. And as always, the key question for any neophyte puffer is how to position oneself, that is how to "brand" your own version of the same tepid, muddled crap that everyone else is selling.

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The Brooklyn Rail

SUMMER 03

All Issues