Sometimes, while I’m reading the New Yorker, I get confused. I don’t get confused by the editorials. Nor do I get confused by the interviews. It’s those damn reviews that throw me off sometimes.
I’ll be reading something, perhaps it’s a review of a new TV show or movie, and I know how he or she feels about the film. I’ll think, “clearly, they liked this movie. I mean, they used the word charming and the word refreshing.” But sometimes, and it’s usually tucked somewhere near the end, they throw something in that either makes no sense to me at all especially because of what led up to it, or it’s there just to confuse someone. It’s almost as if the ambiguity tactic is used just incase some other more reputable reviewer saw the same film and thought the opposit of whatever they’re not saying.
I can’t believe you liked that movie.
Me? No, I DIDN’T like it. Didn’t you read that last paragraph?
Did you really NOT like it, New Yorker Reviewer person? Or are you just so unique it’d be wrong to admit liking anything at all.
Then again, I am fairly braindead in the morning. So it could just be me.
Mihow 
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