Malcolm Gladwell has long been a nemesis of mine. With his hair reminiscent of a certain foxy jazz singer, his connections to The New Yorker, and his using of cheap English Major tricks, I find him both aggravating and oddly alluring. There are certainly less talented people who are famous, but I don’t think many of them aspire to be the Humanities’ Carl Sagan. And so I use my tiny folded pulpit to poke fun at a man who has perhaps achieved a greater fame than his methods deserve.
Read, enjoy, and, if you happen to be Malcolm Gladwell, please don’t sue.