I actually have no idea what this McSweeney’s piece is getting at. Maybe that’s (getting at something) not the point anyway. I like it.
I gave you some twaddle about my former career as a mid-level analyst and love of recumbent bicycles, and you, wearing your self-doubt like an emblem, mentioned that you were pursuing an MFA, amidst staffing a rainforest-friendly coffee shop. I then brightened, and announced that I, too, was a writer. You asked what I had written, and I told you that I had written 52 books on corporate strategy and leadership during my summers in Mexico, in a writer’s community near Oaxaca.