My Comments
to the frontpage: Huh, yourself. Reread the top of the piece and you'll see the writer CONCEDES that the Eagles' Greatest Hits is the best selling album of all time. He even--needlessly, IMHO--defends the musicality of this flaccid SoCal stoner faux-cowboy combo. Indeed the Eagles' alleged talent, and the concomitant analogy with the Mossian will-to-conceptual puniness, IS the premise of the piece, and there's nothing mistaken about it. The point isn't that people don't like the Eagles and NYMag--the point is they do, in spite of them both sucking pond water. You can quarrel with that conclusion, but you should probably hold off on assaulting the premise until you figure how to, you know, master a bit of reading comprehension. Though I suppose your shortcomings in that department may be what makes NYMag such a pleasurable magazine experience for you . . . .
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to the frontpage: Huh, yourself. Reread the top of the piece and you'll see the writer CONCEDES that the Eagles' Greatest Hits is the best selling album of all time. He even--needlessly, IMHO--defends the musicality of this flaccid SoCal stoner faux-cowboy combo. Indeed the Eagles' alleged talent, and the concomitant analogy with the Mossian will-to-conceptual puniness, IS the premise of the piece, and there's nothing mistaken about it. The point isn't that people don't like the Eagles and NYMag--the point is they do, in spite of them both sucking pond water. You can quarrel with that conclusion, but you should probably hold off on assaulting the premise until you figure how to, you know, master a bit of reading comprehension. Though I suppose your shortcomings in that department may be what makes NYMag such a pleasurable magazine experience for you . . . .