The New York Times Could Kill Me And All My Friends If It Wanted To

I can’t count how many times I’ve had the following conversation with my 20-somethings friends:

“So I learned recently that there is a connection between [type of exercise or diet] and [health concern I didn’t use to worry about but now worry about a lot].”

“Oh, yeah, I read about that too.”

“New York Times health blog?”


The New York Times is pretty much my only source for health news (except the occasional random Wired article). Thanks to the NYT, I feel better about drinking coffee, feel guilty that I don’t do more crosswords, aspire to do more interval training, and carry the burdensome suspicion that there are 1,000 things I need to do to prevent my joints from collapsing and my attention span and memory from going to shit, and I’m only doing 4 of them.

It looks sinister if you stare at it long enough.

Which leads me to this realization:

If the New York Times wanted to kill thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of middle and upper-middle class people between the ages of 22 and 42, they totally could. All they’d need to do is slip the deadly advice into their health articles.

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