About three years ago, ever since Precedent Shitgibbon started using the phrase, "the failing NY Times", I signed up for a subscription to the NY Times for the express purpose of doing my part to prevent its failure.
I was not alone. Its subscriptions rates have skyrocketed.
I read the NY Times daily and discard about 5% of its content due to media bias.
If you've been on earth as long as I have, 44 years, you start to employ critical thinking and come to understand that biases and agendas are evident everywhere you look. Even with the Old Grey Lady.
In some cases it's subtle. In other cases, like the fascist swill coming from Breitbart or Sean Insanity, it's as subtle as Melania's kidney surgery.
In any case, I've been faithfully reading the NY Times for the past three years. In that time, I've been exposed to thousands of ads. From the exorbitantly expensive and completely useless blood gems sold at Tiffany's to the equally useless and indulgent $300 shirts sold at the now defunct Barneys.
In all that time, I have never taken the time to rip an ad out of the NY Times for posterity. Or any other reason. That changed yesterday when I came across this sneaky item...
It was buried on the lower right hand corner of A9 and it screamed for my attention the way Ernest Shackleton cajoled cohorts to join him on his fateful journey.
Suffice to say, I love this.
I love this kind of advertising because it doesn't spoon feed.
Or condescend.
Or insult.
It's tongue is placed firmly in cheek and it's high-minded. It tickles the imagination. Dares the reader to investigate further. And rewards the reader when he or she does.
I also love it because it gave me a good opportunity to mention Uranus.
Yes, I'm that sophomoric.
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