I hate The New Yorker. It’s so poorly organized. Instead of placing a few photos of West Virginia in the article on heroin epidemic in the state, the magazine put some dumb, entirely unrelated (and frankly offensive in this context) cartoons.
“This woman’s young daughter died of a heroin overdose. Oh, by the way, here’s a funny cartoon about pastry chefs. So, about those drug addicts. Oh, and before I forget, here is a cartoon on reality TV. OK, back to those addicts.”
The image of the perfect reader they promote is a smug, consumerist scatterbrain who sees West Virginia addicts as entertainment.