snoburbia, the blog

somewhere over the rainbow

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I attended a large political event today in my snoburban county. Every major and minor local politico was there. There were speeches, of course. There was praise of firefighters and police officers and union employees, of course. There was an honor guard, a bagpipe group playing patriotic songs, an orchestra of local high school kids (mostly Asian), and a Jewish a cappella group. Saying prayers were a Rabbi, a Muslim imam, and a Baptist minister. An African American soloist sang "God Bless America" (beautifully) from her wheelchair. There were no unitarians or atheists, though.

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no need to be goy, roy

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In this part of snoburbia, you must know how to pronounce words like "shikse" and "mezuzah." When you eat, you nosh. When you carry something heavy, you schlep it. These words have seeped into my vocabulary. (I grew up hearing about the rosary and the Trinity.) The grocery store in Bethesda was packed for a few days in mid-September. My children attended at least three Bat or Bar Mitzvahs a year in seventh and eighth grades.

One of my friends moved away from here, and her kids were shocked by the new school system: "What?! We have to go to school on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?"

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Happy Hanukkah to all my friends who celebrate the Festival of Lights. (Or is it Chanukah?)

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nincompoopery*

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In overachiever snoburbia we relish our ability to stay awake. It's the subject of discussion at parties. "I sleep only four hours a night..." (subtext: "...because the global economy would collapse without my efforts," or "...because the Scouts would cease to exist without my selfless toil.") The counter to this is: "Yeah, I know, I only slept three hours last night."

I, however, do not engage in this competition. I am a sleeper. If I don't get enough sleep - and I mean at least seven hours - I become:

a.) grouchy

b.) a total nincompoop

There have been many sleep studies in recent years. And they generally show that a person who doesn't get enough sleep has increased depression and stress levels, as well as reduced cognitive function. In other words, he becomes:

a.) grouchy

b.) a total nincompoop

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* This is a real word, and it sounds especially funny when you haven't had enough sleep.

cheese snob

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Oh no. I dread this feeling that is coming on. It's the feeling of having crossed a line from which I now can never retreat: I think I am becoming a cheese snob.

I have bought cheese from the artisanal cheese man at the local snoburban farmers' market every Saturday for about a month now. And now I can never eat ordinary cheese again. I didn't plan on this. It's the very kind of thing I would tease one of my friends about. But the other day my husband brought home some cheese from the Safeway - a cheese I normally like, and... it did not taste good.

So this morning I walked to the farmers' market for my cheese fix. I stood next to the French woman who was arguing with the cheese man that, "This cheese was made in France." He seemed to delight in telling her it was made in Appalachia (Washington, Va. - not exactly typical Appalachia). 

I bought some semi-hard, rosemary-rind cheese and some chevre. I may even try a piece of the aged Stilton he is going to bring next weekend.

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i hate thanksgiving

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I feel a little uncomfortable saying this, because it's not very snoburban of me, but... I don't like Thanksgiving. Not at all. Don't get me wrong - it's not in that Thanksgiving-as-metaphor-for-family-dysfunction way. I love seeing my family, who come in from out of town. I also love the long weekend.

It's just that Thanksgiving is a massing of all those things I don't care about, all on one day:

• Food

• Rituals

• Finery

Maybe it stems from my mother making me clean the wax off the candelabra or iron the tablecloths every year. The good china, the crystal, the turkey that has to cook all day. All that pressure, culminating in... one meal.

I'd rather we just hang out. Can't we just order a pizza?

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P.S. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

carnies, pirates and screenprinters

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I am starting to think of screenprinters as carnies, or maybe pirates. In the last couple of weeks, I have sold quite a few snoburbia t-shirts because of the Washington Post article. Great, right? Well, not so fast.

I placed my order with my screenprinter, and after a reasonable number of days, called to see when they would be ready. Well, the dreadlocked Jamaican guy who does the printing, "has disappeared for four days and no one has seen him." Okay? But they found a temp who could do it. Okay.

So I called on Friday to find out about picking up my shirts, and the really nice, apologetic guy who answered the phone explained that if they weren't printed by the end of that day, I wasn't getting them at all. "Um, why?" I asked. Because they were going out of business and the bank was coming any minute to padlock the warehouse - with my shirts inside.

So now, I am trying a new screenprinter, who seems professional and good. One of my snoburbia Facebook page friends sent him to me. So I checked out his Facebook page - it shows a photo of him wearing a t-shirt that says, "Eat, f**k, kill."

Aargh.

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locabore

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Around here, in the snoburbs, you mustn't just eat your food. You must do a statistical and cultural analysis of it. Food is political. It is not to be taken lightly - and certainly not to be enjoyed. That is, unless you know it was harvested sustainably or grown locally and organically (and purchased at the local farmers' market).

If you do not follow the above rules, you deserve to be flogged. For instance, if you indulge in Nutella, you, personally, are destroying the rainforests. [Note: But deliciously.]

I know a 10-year-old boy who was at his friend's house, and who, when offered some chicken, asked: "Is this free-range, organic chicken or is it factory-farmed?" Okay, that was my kid. I am so proud.

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lady, can you spare a dime?

The Washington Post did an article about me and my blog yesterday. Then there was a follow-up Live Chat, which was lighthearted and fun. It has been a whirlwind, with 1,000 times the usual amount of hits. I have received really nice emails from people who appreciate my posts. 

The reporter, J. Freedom duLac, emailed me twice today to tell me it was the second most emailed story yesterday, and that it was in the top five stories on which people clicked. Heady stuff, right?

Most of the comments and emails sent to me personally have been very kind. But then I started reading the Post comments. Geez. Calgon take me away.

What I didn't expect was the barrage of vitriol, from people who don't know me and who made [wrong] assumptions about, 1.) an imagined life of privilege, or, conversely, 2.) a mundane suburban life and unnuanced observations not worthy of daylight, depending on who was commenting (anonymously).

The first group thought I was a spoiled, ungrateful punk. It was the comment about the $300 door handles that was probably my downfall. Okay, I admit, I splurged on those handles. I admire them every day. They're awesome. It's not as if I buy something like that on regular basis. (All my light fixtures are $9 and $13 glass and chrome jobs from Home Depot.) One of these commenters ended his tirade with: "Lady, can you spare a dime?" Ouch.

One person insulted my father, who had the nerve not to know what the PSAT was. Someone else wrote, "We know her, and she is strange." Um, okay?

And then there was the second group (from D.C. Urban Moms blog). Here's an example...

She doesn't seem to appreciate some of the finer distinctions among the various subcultures of suburban life she observes. For example, the Chevy Chase View family with 4 kids, Connor, Brendan, Grace and Patrick, all of whom play LAX or soccer for either Prep or Stone Ridge and get carted around to games in their Suburban with the OBX sticker is worlds away from the McLean family with 2 girls named Piper and Hayes who play tennis for Madeira and drive a Range Rover with a MV sticker.

Okay, now that's funny (but probably not in the way the writer intended)! Or maybe it's not.

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yo vote in snoburbia

After I voted yesterday, I was proud to wear my generic "I voted/Yo vote" sticker. I felt extra special. But then I saw this one from snoburban Northern Virginia*:

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* I don't actually go to Virginia unless medically necessary, so thank you to astute Virginia reader Chris L. for sending me this photo.

snoburbia [heart] nutella

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Nutella. I first discovered it in the cabinet of a friend in California. This friend bought $180 shoes (in 1987), drank Orangina and shopped at Trader Joes (in 1987). She and Nutella were cool.

But now, Nutella is at Costco, and Orangina is owned by Dr. Pepper Snapple.

And the other night, I was horrified to see a television commercial for Nutella. Now the masses would know my delicious chocolate secret.  But not to worry; it was aimed right at snoburbia. First of all, the ad was placed on that ersatz egghead show, Rubicon (watched on DVR, of course). And then there was the subtext:

Nutella, is "perfect on multi-grain toast and even whole wheat waffles."

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the elaborate thanking ritual

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Sociologists, pay attention. After every school or community event in snoburbia, an important ritual occurs: the elaborate thanking ritual. This is where the women who volunteered in the event try to out-thank each other. The one of us who thanks with the most spirit wins.

I just volunteered at a fundraising event, a party to raise funds for our endangered children's library. And, as I expected, within 24 hours, the ritual began:

Kudos to Sue* and her incredible volunteer team, who put together a
magnificent afternoon… the D.J. spun the finest hits. It
was truly an afternoon infused with community spirit.

Sue to volunteers:
Thank you so much for creating such a wonderful dance party! We raised
over $3,000 for the... Children’s Library… Congratulations and
thank you again for all your help!

Sue, I think the thanks goes in the other direction!!! Thank YOU for being
such a tremendous leader and orchestrating such a special event for
our community…

And we have a winner! It's only been a couple of days, so I fully expect a few more. No one has thanked the thankers. And no elected official has weighed in yet.

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* name changed to protect the thanked

plaster or drywall

I have been away for a while. No excuses. Oh, yeah, except that my 60-year-old living room ceiling collapsed! Here it is:

The gray stuff on the ground is not dust - it's the ceiling itself. But even in this minor catastrophe and mess, I found a kernel of good: Fodder for my blog.

I was getting bids from contractors, and I called my friend who is a contractor who works on historic homes. She said she would give me a quote to re-plaster the ceiling. I said, "No, drywall is fine." She seemed shocked: "Really? Everyone around here insists on plaster. No one wants drywall."

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one man's trash

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From Freecycle - Bethesda:

Wanted: A small tv for our au pair      

Offer: Peg Perego Pliko stroller                                                       

From Freecycle - Silver Spring:

Offer: "Deadheads for Obama" pin

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but $250,000 is middle class

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I have been following the middle class tax cut extension debate. This is where people who make $250,000 a year call themselves middle class. Those middle class households are in snoburbia, where all the politicians and media commentators live.

The Census Bureau would call them something else: rich. The median family income is $50,223. Only 1.9 percent of American households earn $250,000 or more. This may come as something of a shock to people living in the snoburbs.

When your neighborhood norm is that people send their kids to $30,000-a-year private schools and then $50,000-a-year private colleges, you just might feel entitled to tax relief if you make only $250,000 - or [gulp] under. 

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the politics of nice

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It is the fall political season, and politicians are everywhere, bumping into each other at parades and block parties. They are tired after months of campaigning, and now their claws are starting to come out. 

Ire and accusation may work in some neighborhoods - but not in overclass snoburbia. If someone is perceived as "not nice," he is out. In snoburbia, it is more important to be nice than to be right. 

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there is no way i'm riding the bus

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If you are a high school junior or senior in overclass snoburbia, it is a humiliation to ride the school bus. (It's bad enough your parents make you go to a school that has school buses.) Riding the school bus means you don't have a hand-me-down luxury car or a friend with one. 

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real housewives of bethesda

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If you are an overclass trophy wife with a matching teenage trophy daughter, you must shop at South Moon Under, in the Wildwood Shopping Center in Bethesda. I've never seen so much expensive blonde hair (perfect highlights, blown out straight) in one place.

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the family photo

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It's August, and in snoburbia that means one thing: It's time for the annual family photo.

Here are the rules:

1. Everyone must wear matching white shirts and khaki.

2. If you are a hipster family, everyone must wear jeans with either a white or black shirt.

3. Most important of all: Everyone must be barefoot.

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just a cabin

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In snoburbia, when you mention your family's vacation house in New Hampshire or the Adirondacks, you must say this: "It's just a cabin. Nothing fancy. Been in the family forever."

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generator envy

 

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A 3-day power outage in my area affected 300,000 homes. We had no air-conditioning, but did have "borrrrrrred" children and a refrigerator full of spoiled food.

On the second hot night, I walked along my dark street to the next street over (the one with the big houses). I noticed some houses had lights blazing. There was a humming sound. What the? They had generators.

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the pool bag

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If you are a woman in your 30s or 40s* and you are going to the snoburbia neighborhood swim club, you must wear ribbon flip-flops that match your pool bag. The must-have pool bag this year is clear-coated, patterned vinyl. You must buy it at a tiny store with a cute name like Two Coconuts. (The bag is capacious, to carry those luxuriously-thick beach towels that never dry.)

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* People in their 20s would rather die than be seen at the swim club.

bethesdany beach

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I recently had to go to a meeting in Ocean City, Md. It was surreal: I, in business suits, everyone else in bikinis and surfboards. Lots of tattoos, American cars and stucco-covered beach hotels. Children named Caden and Jaden. A band blaring Jimmy Buffett. Many people had that deep orange tan, circa 1975.

After my conference, I decided to drive up the road to see the Delaware beaches, Bethany and Rehoboth. As I drove into Bethany Beach, suddenly I felt calm, comfortable, at home. Ahhh! Breezy people. Shops selling kites and frozen yogurt.

Then I looked closely at some of the cars and had a sudden realization: They were from Bethesda or overclass towns like it up the coast. They were from snoburbia.

I felt mildly disappointed in myself. My comfort zone has narrowed. I've lived in snoburbia too long...

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premium

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Overheard in snoburbia:

A 16-year-old boy was talking with his mother about the Mercedes he drives.

Boy: Mom - can I have some money for gas?

Mom: What? I gave you $35 earlier this week.

Boy: But this car needs premium!

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fourth of july

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It's the Fourth of July in snoburbia. If we are not at the beach, we are decorating our children's bicycles and strollers so they can win the prize at the bicycle parade. A Fourth of July bicycle parade is held so that overclass parents can spend hundreds of dollars on matching red, white and blue outfits for the family.

But mostly, it is to show that our town can be more quaint than yours.

Back in my old neighborhood years ago, we celebrated the holiday by throwing firecrackers on the sidewalk or by scaring the beagles next door with bottle rockets shot out of glass Pepsi bottles. 

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If you don't live in snoburbia, you can celebrate the Fourth with the Redneck Pack.

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Catholic dress code

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If you are a Catholic male living in my corner of snoburbia, you must follow the unwritten summer dress code. Men must wear polo (or Polo) shirts tucked into belted khaki shorts. You get bonus points for belts with embroidered whales or anchors. (However, whales on shorts are too flashy.) Shoes must be brown loafers. You probably should part your hair and comb it neatly to one side. This way it will stay in place while you are perfecting your lawn.

If you wear your shirt untucked, you are a heathen - possibly a Unitarian.

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phone shame

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I feel it, and now that big-box retail chain is marketing it: It's phone shame.  I am possibly the only one in all of snoburbia without an iPhone (let alone 4G) or Blackberry. I'm fine with it, but the young'uns are horrified. Our antique 2009 phones are obviously affecting their social standing.

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settling for best

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When I was living there, I heard that Washington D.C. had the oldest singles population in the country. (That's because all the good ones are gay, right? It sure seemed like that when I was dating.) But I have another theory. If you look at the states with the oldest age at first marriage, they are the states with the most snoburbs: D.C., Connecticut, New York and Massachusetts.

Maybe it's because people in snoburbia are overclass overachievers, and are used to pursuing and getting exactly what they want, first from mom and dad, then from colleges, then from potential partners.

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"As my genius friend the textile designer says, she asks on first dates or meeting men in bars, 'Do you have a passport and a library card?'"

    - Columbia and Sarah Lawrence grad Syreeta McFadden, 35, New York Times

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$800,000 just isn't what it used to be

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A real estate listing from snoburbia:

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(Thank you to Silver Spring blogger Dan Reed at Just Up the Pike for this tidbit. He's leaving the area, and we'll miss him. Best of luck to you, Dan.)

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okay, okay, it's exeter

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At a party in snoburbia, I was talking to a guy who, in a conversation about how popular lacrosse is now, mentioned that he had played lacrosse 25 years ago at his "private school in the Northeast." I didn't ask where.

He tried again in a couple of minutes, saying he had gone to "prep school in New England." I still didn't ask where. Then he managed to insert into the conversation his "boarding school in New Hampshire." I didn't take the bait.

Finally, he couldn't help himself: He just said, "When I was at Exeter..."

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swishy hair

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If you are a snoburban high school-  or college-age guy in the cool set, your hair must swish just so.

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no olivia?

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Overheard in a dressing room in snoburbia:

A girl named Sophie, who was about 13 years old, was talking about her best friends: Sophie (a different one), Sophia, Hannah, Madison, Madeleine and Emma.

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full-on snoburbia

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My neighborhood has changed since we moved in. There used to be a few remaining blue-collar families - the roofer next door, the tow truck driver down the street. Now they are all gone, as the housing prices have hit $1 million (plus). In their stead, lawyers and doctors and executives have moved in.

Nowhere is this demographic change more evident than at our local elementary school. When we first started there, back in the late 1990s, there were still some women with frizzy (undyed!) hair and full skirts.

Not now.

Now it's a sea of Athleta yoga pants and Marmot vests. Their bottoms are pert and their hair is blonde. Their teeth are pearly white.

It's full-on snoburbia now. No denying it.

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familiarity breeds

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I once worked for a magazine that hired only Ivy Leaguers on its editorial side. This extended even to the free-labor interns.

This is true in many elite institutions. Why so much emphasis on the Ivy League in hiring decisions? Here's my theory, in two scenarios:

a. Familiarity - He went to private schools, JK*-12, and on to the Ivy League. He has a background similar to my own. He is like family. In fact, he is my cousin, twice-removed.

b. Validation - I scrambled my way into the Ivy League by sheer merit, through superior skill and keen intellect. I deserve to be in the pantheon of the overclass. If I hire that kid from State U, I am as much as admitting that those public school schlubs I left behind deserve to be here, too.

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On the business side of the magazine, where I worked, one's degree didn't matter. It was commerce.

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* That's "junior kindergarten." I can't believe you didn't know that. You must have gone to public school.

differently abled English

 

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At the schools in snoburbia, they* are always thinking up new ways to improve upon plain ole English. My daughter was late for school this morning, so she had to go to "promptness workshop."  Then she went to her "American Voices" (English) class.

One day last week, my son forgot to turn in his homework, so he got "noon reflection" (detention). This was held in the "media center" (library).

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* members of the Trilateral Commission, obviously

der hipstermobile

 

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If you are a 20-something snoburban hipster, you must drive a Volkswagen. It must carry a Thule roof rack (for your kayak or skis, of course).

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on a mission

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This being the Washington, D.C. area, we sometimes get presidential motorcades, Air Force One flyovers and such. Malia Obama played basketball at our local elementary school.

But recently, a big American sedan was lurking around my snoburban neighborhood, trying - ridiculously - to look inconspicuous. Hello? An American car in snoburbia? It was super-shiny and black, with a long antenna.

If the Secret Service/FBI/spooks truly had wanted to fit in in snoburbia, they would have driven a black BMW SUV, a Volvo station wagon, a grey Toyota or Honda minivan, or better yet - a green pickup truck pulling a trailer of lawnmowers and wheelbarrows.

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nosmo king

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In overclass snoburbia, nobody smokes. I don't know even one person who smokes - openly, that is. If a person smokes, she hides it, coming to your house smelling of industrial-strength breath mints.

Smoking is okay if you are working class - or a skateboarder. (Or if you are male, smoking a cigar or pipe, in company, after cocktails).

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When a smoker chucks his cigarette butt to the curb from a car window, snoburban people go crazy, cursing in their cars, flailing their arms and hurling imaginary insults. Or is it just me?

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teavana

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In snoburbia, one drinks lots of tea. Not just black tea, mind you. It must be herbal or green or from a country where there are elephants (especially Indonesia). It must have a faux-spiritual, healing name and come from a place called Teavana or Teaism. You must drink it while wearing yoga pants.

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overclass bus stop

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Observed, at the bus stop in front of the Chevy Chase Club, every day:

7:45 a.m. Grey-templed Caucasian men in belted khaki raincoats, wearing suits and ties and shiny black shoes.

3:00 p.m. Dust-covered Latino men in tan work boots and grey t-shirts, and Latino women in baggy clothes.

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greige

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Crocuses are blooming, and the denizens of snoburbia are considering paint chips.* If you live in the overclass snoburbs, you may choose paint for the exterior of your house from among these colors (only):

1. beige
2. grey

Oh, and a third: greige.

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* At least one must be Benjamin Moore.

beware hillbillies!

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From my snoburb's local listserv:

[Residents in the] Bethesda - Chevy Chase Area [should] be on the lookout for three groups of men claiming to be tree workers...  [T]hey are scammers who are targeting our immediate area... They are going door to door and are targeting our area because of our general wealth.

The authorities believe the groups are out of Culpeper, Va. They drive Ford and Chevy pick-up trucks with racks on the back made of wood...

[Town] Manager, Martin's Additions

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more millionaires

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Finally, during this economic crisis, comes some heartwarming good news: In 2009, the number of millionaires soared!

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freecycle

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People in snoburbia love Freecycle. We get to acquire more stuff, and feel at the same time that we are saving the planet. It's a twofer!

I am addicted to magazines like crack, so when I saw on the Bethesda - Chevy Chase Freecycle listserv that a woman was giving away several bags, I responded immediately. Even before I walked up the flagstone walkway to her neo-Mission style house, I knew she was a woman of the snoburbs. Why? Her magazines: Body + Soul, Real Simple, Town & Country, Travel & Leisure, The New Republic, The Economist, and The New Yorker.

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herd immunity

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A few years back, I enrolled my daughter in a Waldorf preschool, where the kids played with only wooden, silk and woolen toys. Everyone was really into eating raw foods, sewing, and visualizing whirled peas.

Then, one day, when I was picking up my daughter, I found out that fully one-third of the families did not vaccinate their children! As I had a young infant at the time, we immediately dropped out of the school, incredulous.

Turns out, vaccine refusal may be a habit for some in the overclass in the U.S. and Australia.

This, from actress Amanda Peet:

I live in a very rarefied enclave... and it's hard to imagine that your child would be struck by a rare disease when you live in that world. But I got involved [in promoting vaccination] because it scared me when I learned how many parents were withholding vaccines from their children.
- Self, December 2009

Snoburbs to everyone else: You people go ahead and inject your infants. Our herd is protected.

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what would alex trebek do?

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In snoburbia, we have a personal relationship with...  Alex Trebek. He is our god.

I went to the Washington area Jeopardy tryouts, along with every other geek from the snoburbs. After they saw people for only half an hour, the show's producers had enough to fill all their slots. They sent the rest of us home, unfulfilled, untested. (In snoburbia, we love tests.)

Go ahead, just ask me the capitol of Bolivia. (This got me my first job when I graduated from college.) No? What are La Paz - and, and! Sucre? It has two capitols.

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waiting for the world to change

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This weekend I went to the John Mayer concert in D.C. (yeah, I know, but I was there for Michael Franti). We took Metro home after the concert. The Metro platform for the red line train was absolutely packed, but only on one side - the one going toward the snoburbs. The one toward Northeast D.C. and Silver Spring? Not so much...

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snow way i'm shoveling my sidewalk

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I heard tales of generosity and camaraderie in Washington, D.C. during the recent blizzard, which dumped a record 30-40 inches of snow in two massive, consecutive storms - nicknamed Snowmaggedon and Snowpocalypse. Neighbors helped neighbors dig out. But from overclass Georgetown, this diss:

Sometimes I see a home where the owner has managed to shovel a bunch of right angles between the front door and the SUV parked in the driveway. From outer space, a pattern like this must look like a crop circle - a primitive language shouting,"Who cares about you?"

Cathy Alter, in The Atlantic

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wheaton plaza

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Most people in snoburbia do not shop at the beautifully remodeled Wheaton mall.

Even with its schmancy new name: Westfield Shoppingtown Wheaton (formerly Wheaton Plaza). Even with its Macy's, Hollister, American Eagle, PacSun, DSW, and other snoburb-friendly fare. When people think of the Wheaton mall, they imagine this:

I go to Wheaton Plaza all the time and have never seen a scene like that one, although I did once see a woman of questionable repute by the Target* store entrance at closing time.  Wheaton Plaza is ten minutes away, has great stores, and has a better selection of sale merchandise than Montgomery Mall (Bethesda) or Tyson's Corner (McLean), the malls of choice for Montgomery County snoburban teens.

This is what Wheaton Plaza actually looks like:

And this is the original Wheaton Plaza, before it was enclosed in the 1970s:

* People from the snoburbs will go to the Target (only), then immediately scurry to their SUVs or hybrids.

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if you try to build it, they will come

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Have you ever tried to build or change something in snoburbia? Don't.

Last week, I called the Montgomery County Council offices to find out about the Kensington Sector Plan meeting the following evening. "Wow - I've never had so many calls about one of these meetings," said the woman. I laughed.

People in the snoburbs are nothing if not politically active. We host fundraisers for politicians in our homes, and personally know our congressmen and state legislators. We organize neighborhood protests and letter-writing campaigns.

Woe betide anyone who tries to sneak something past an overclass neighborhood. A local church thought it would put a big, ugly cell phone tower on its property. Wrong.

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Not from snoburbia:

On the Diane Rehm Show, the head of the "Tea Party" said that at their recent convention, he asked for a show of hands: How many people had never been involved in politics before? About 98 percent of the hands in the room went up.
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how will it play in peoria?

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Gossip site Gawker earlier this week repeated a National Enquirer story saying Anderson Cooper was adopting a Haitian baby, thereby outing him and his alleged partner. (Cooper tweeted in response that, "while the plight of children in Haiti has touched us all, stories about me adopting a baby are completely false.")

Apparently, Gawker's overclass, snoburban editors think that the whole of middle America would swoon and need smelling salts if ordinary people discovered New York's proprietary, insider news:

Now it's not just going to be the New York media types and the gays who are hip to the story, but the Enquirer's very middle-American, straight, and older readership — the same people who watch him on CNN.

Because only the New York media elite and Chelsea hipsters have gaydar - or read online.

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