Newswire: Explaining David Brooks’ column to a stupid coworker who’s scared of fancy meat

Recently, I discovered a coworker who just has an associates degree holding The New York Times. Instinctively, I understood that they were planning to use it to pee on like a crated Labrador, their two years of junior college slumming clearly leaving them with little working knowledge of indoor plumbing, or where to direct the neon-green Mountain Dew micturition of the lower classes. But as I gestured to help them arrange the broadsheet on the floor and offered to relax their bladder by soothingly expounding upon the ingenious early sewers of the Minoans, suddenly their face froze, and I could tell from their primitive grunting that, to my surprise, they were actually trying to read it.

Specifically, they were pointing their humanities-schooled sausage fists at the latest column by David Brooks, America’s preeminent analyst of our moral decline according to whatever he read or watched on TV or overheard …

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