The aforementioned New York Times, we're led to believe, is edited by an unwashed band of granola chomping tree huggers. However, those same pinko publishers chose, this summer, to publish an essay-essentially a 2400-word assault-by restaurant critic, Frank Bruni, entitled "Life in the Fast-Food Lane."
Food snob Bruni, it seems, had taken to the road "to size up and single out the best fast food from familiar national chains, relatively unfamiliar regional chains and tiny local chains I had never encountered." Calling this the "culinary road less traveled," Bruni is quick to remind us that despite this jaunt, he's more accustomed to consuming "veal sweetbreads and duck liver p té."
Let's stop there. If there were even a shred of truth in the Times' liberal reputation, any discussion of veal and duck liver p té would serve to expose the unspeakable cruelty behind such alleged delicacies. Instead, we have the pretentious Bruni slumming, in order to discover enduring truths like this: "Flame, or at least a suggestion of grilling or broiling, matters. That's a principal reason a Whopper bested a Big Mac, cooked on a griddle. It's why the new roster of one-third-pound charbroiled Thickburgers at Hardee's tasted better than the steamed slivers at Krystal, a White Castle analogue in the South."
The lesson for Bruni: "On the right road, with the right company, there may well be as much satisfaction at the low end of dining as there is at the high end."
The lesson for the rest of us: The media is as liberal or conservative as the corporations that own it.