Okay, Look · 13 May 2002
I SWEAR TO GOD this is the last ever noise about a National Post columnist. I practically never look at the greasy thing anymore, only nipping in now and again to see what wisdom is emanating from Becky Eckler (always somehow both giggly and stern), or to chuckle at Vietnam-era refugee and onetime welfare recipient Diane Francis foaming against immigrants and the welfare state. Mark Steyn you know about.
Anyway, Elizabeth Nickson hates herself for doing her job, for connecting the dots assigned her in a ground-glass editorial policy devised to delight only the departed Tubby Black and a handful of Toronto executives, for tapping out weak derision of a nonexistent leftist status quo, for casting the pro-business, pro-globalization, Eisenhower-manqué Chretien Liberals as all that stands in the way of the perfection of the market (hah!), for labouring at a tone of such inelegance and witlessness it feels like watching an old man attempt to take a crap. Yes, she loathes herself so much she’s taken to writing entire columns about the process (I mean it, I really do!). Hoping, one assumes, to reclaim some self esteem after serving so hideous a master.
Read for yourself: this one is kind of funny, but this one just goes all hysterical – the bits about doing ‘research’ (after accusations of sloppy research) and having a ‘serious mind’ are a gas.
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