"Even with Irma knocking at our door, we here in Miami are NOT FREAKING OUT AT ALL!"

A big storm is coming, but Dave Barry is still funny.

As part of our preparedness we have a “whole house” generator, which is the size of a nuclear submarine but more expensive. We installed it after Wilma knocked out our power for a couple of weeks in 2005 and we all smelled like unlaundered jockstraps. We take good care of our generator: It gets serviced regularly, and it automatically tests itself every week. That is why I can calmly report that, with a major hurricane heading directly at my house, our generator, which has been well-treated for all these years and has never been asked to generate anything, IS NOT WORKING. Really. When I turn it on, it turns itself right back off. It is the French labor union of generators.

"Fast Times at Eighth Avenue High"

This piece is 3.5 years old, but I just came across it. It made me laugh.

High school is an apt metaphor for the shenanigans inside the Times’ $850 million skyscraper at the corner of Fortieth Street and Eighth Avenue. The Times portrayed in Kurson's article is not the established, serious, and competent institution of the liberal imagination. It is the Beverly Hills High School in Clueless, a cliquey and catty war of all against all, where the self-importance of the occupants masks deep insecurities. The next time our reporters and producers and anchors and bloggers affect an air of moral or social superiority, the next time they pretend to know the answers to every political and economic and cultural question, remember this: They are basically teenagers.