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The deeper I got into David Amsden's essay the more I thought I was reading something I'd written thirty years ago. Oh to be in my twenties again, thinking I had all the answers and sharing them with everyone vis-a-vis broad sweeping generalizations and idealized notions of what life is all about.
As well intentioned as I'm sure Amsden's thoughts were, they suffer from the myopic hubris of youth, which his articulate writing doesn't do a very good job of masking. As another letter writer observed, this was an essay that felt like it should have been on Amsden's blog rather than on Salon.
Is it too late to append Salon's biggest misses of the past ten years?