The Broccoli Of Authenticity

If you haven’t read it yet, last week’s New York Times Magazine had a feature-length article about Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst which has to be the most appallingly awful piece of journalism I’ve ever seen published by the Times. Seriously, we’re talking about a sub-Pitchfork level of writing; full of baffling purple prose, a total lack of objectivity, and piss-poor fact checking. It’s so dreadful, that it crosses over into the realm of comedy at some points.

The most unintentionally hilarious bit comes from a fan who explains his powerful reaction to Oberst’s music:

”I’ve never seen anyone in music be so tormented,” Oda said. ”The song about the coughing, shaking fit on the bathroom floor — I don’t know if I’m sounding teenaged, but when you are drunk and passed out on your bathroom floor and screaming out loud and no one can hear you because your apartment’s lonely and cold, it’s the perfect music.”

That quote is almost too good to be true – it seems almost like something out of a Christopher Guest movie.

Even more funny is Analog Roam’s commentary about the article, particularly the bit in which he wonders how Oberst and Dylan would rate in bed by the standards of the article’s writer:

So tell us, Pagan Kennedy — how do you think they would compare in the sack? Oh, I know. Dylan would be too rough. He wouldn’t cover you in rose petals first. He wouldn’t care enough about your feeeeelings. But Connor Oberst — now there’s a lover. So shy. So sensitive. He would weep before, during, and after the act, his orgasm culminating in a great pained sob and an animal bleat. How hot is that?