Something very strange is going on with the New York Times Book Review. Historically a blend of erudite, snide, and snobby, they’ve clearly cracked under the pressure of recent events at the grey lady. (or under the blatant, rampant greed running the book industry these days).

First a review of Candace Bushnell’s (famous for the literary masterpiece that inspired Sex in the City) latest book composed as a letter from Legally Blonde’s “Elle Woods” to one of the book characters.

Now a review of Order of the Phoenix that reads like a G rated version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. (besides how long could it really take to read the damn book? I found the first couple where single sitting sized servings of fluff)

I think the Times might have missed 1 or 2 people when they cleaned house recently.