Give Me Your Lunch Money, Brooks.

You know there are some adults you can just look at and tell without even having to ask that they were the lamest kids in high school? Not just any nerd mind you (after all, I was a nerd) but I mean someone SO lame that they didn't even know enough to fantasize or daydream about the things they didn't have or the people they couldn't lay? In other words, not the smart kid who ignored sports while learning how to speak a foreign language fluently, but instead, that embarrassment of human skin kid who ignored sports and academics while learning how to speak a FAKE LANGUAGE (Elfish, Klingon...take your pick). That kid is no honorable nerd, no intellectual anti-jock, no cool rebel. No. That kid is SQUARE.

And there is no columnist at the New York Times who is squarer and less relevant than David fucking Brooks. Seriously. He's so lame, we can't even call him Dave Brooks. It's DAVID for him, all the way! Dude just needs to retire and return to whatever boringly four sided (equal at that) rock he crawled out from. So desperate is this Ultimate Square to be liked, that he tries to straddle the fence between liberalism and conservatism, hoping to stay friends with everyone (and of course, just like a square, he actually confuses American centrism for "liberalism"). He's totally the lame ass who would let other kids have a party at his house when he's not there, because he thinks it will make him popular. Not realizing of course that they just wanna use his pad.

David has contributed nothing substantial to the Times and he is often quite wrong (he can't even adequately delineate his supposed "hero" -- conservative icon Edmund Burke) so why is he still here? Time to go, you Middling Moderate, you Diddly Dink, you Regular Quadrilateral. You've bored us all quite enough with your unyielding dullness, lack of imagination, and stunning inability to offer humor, wit, or even a decently turned phrase to mitigate your mediocrity. (God even his PICTURE is boring) I'm sure the Moderate Agenda can survive without you -- in fact they'd probably prefer a spokesman who knows what he's talking about. Come on, we'll even throw you a party when you quit. One that's as big as...Friday Nights at David Brooks' Place When He's Not There.