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Imagine what might happen if the agony--minus the glib, self-satisfied imitation of a one-woman Greek chorus--poured into Ms. Wilson's rant were applied to something that actually mattered. Someone might think, briefly, that she was on to something.
Ms. Wilson strives mightily to find Meaning in Disaster but, um, excuse me: wasn't this the silly diversion called The Oscars? Perhaps she should confine further cultural critique to an exegesis of the next People magazine.
And Jon Stewart, blessed with more comic talent, intelligence and decency than we collectively deserve, surely will survive without her, or anyone's, sympathy.