Kathleen Parker, a syndicated columnist not worth reading, is one of America's foremost advocates of Racism as Common Sense. "Please," we beg her, "won't you offer your take on the shooting of a white man by some black youths, in order to unwittingly expose your own prejudices?" Yes, she will.

The latest drop in the ceaseless downpour of scandalous NSA stories was the revelation that the agency spied on the U.N. That's a grave breach of trust by any standard, a serious scandal. But some vain media cynics will not stop championing the NSA no matter what it does.

A year ago, cottonheaded Washington Post heartthrob Richard Cohen wrote a column on the contentious issue of "stop and frisk" that took no position whatsoever. That column was absolutely worthless. Amazingly, his writing on the issue has gotten worse since then.

Jay Mariotti, a childlike former newspaperman and celebrated asshole, was once a reviled sports columnist. Then he left the media for a three-year "vacation." Now, he's back with his own website. His hilariously inept attempts at promoting it are sure to be its very best feature.

Henry Allen, 72, has something to say to the world: What is happening? Where am I? What's going on?

No matter how great the backlash, the venerable Washington Post is determined to publish explanations from white columnists of why Trayvon Martin's death was actually very understandable. Today: Kathleen Parker says that racial profiling is "common sense." Oh yes.

The parade of columnists declaring their support for the NSA's massive secret spying program goes on, and on, and on...

After writing two (2) columns about his daughter's college roommate, Thomas Friedman follows up with a column today that consists largely of quotes from a week-old David Simon essay. Thomas Friedman is no longer even trying.

In the past week, we've witnessed the post-9/11 era's most comprehensive set of stories about the extent of the U.S. government's secret domestic spying programs. It's front page news worldwide. It's sparked a national debate over privacy and security. And some of our nation's most useless political pundits could not be more bored.

Last week, mustache-stroking corporatist sloganeer Thomas Friedman used his immensely valuable column space in the New York Times to write a love letter to a company run by his daughter's college roommate. Could Thomas Friedman possibly top that for sheer laziness and nepotistic indulgence? But of course.

Like any ingenue to the magazine world, Pippa Middleton has glided up the rungs of the media ladder—straight from food columnist for a grocery store leaflet to Contributing Editor at Vanity Fair—in one easy step.

Although Frank Bruni is a bad newspaper columnist, he does write for a very influential newspaper, even if he doesn't always seem to know it. But we can't expect Frank Bruni to always be writing about "news." Sometimes, you just wanna say, "Hey, Frank: could you opine on the current season, for 800 words or so?"

Seeking a job? Who better to turn to for advice than mustachioed simpleton Thomas Friedman, reliable font of platitudinous excreta? Why, Thomas Friedman knows just who to talk to about this...

David Brooks, a clumsy amateur sociologist who has improbably turned a talent for adjusting his glasses in a wise-looking manner into a gig as a nationally respected opinion columnist, is a busy man. He's teaching a class at Yale, okay? He can't be expected to come up with his own ideas every single week. Today, he hit on a novel solution to his quandary: just have one of his students write his column! You can hardly tell the difference.

Well-meaning but inept New York Times columnist Frank Bruni is living proof that being a newspaper columnist is harder than it looks. As a normal newspaper writer and food critic, he seemed like a smart, erudite guy; as a columnist, he has proven to be remarkably free of insight or interesting ideas of any sort. Say, did you catch Frank Bruni's column Sunday entitle "The Land of the Binge?" If not, allow us to sum it up for you.

New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, a mustachioed humanoid robot with a limited vocabulary, was programmed by his creators to do whatever it takes to get his simple, cartoonish message across, even if that means repeating that message over and over and over without end in the nation's premier news outlet until all of us bow down and accept it, just to get him to stop saying it.

Peggy Noonan, whose uniquely airy style of kindergarten-reading-level prose works upon the political chattering classes (but no one else) like a snake charmer's flute works on a cobra, wrote one of the most vapid, scoff-worthy, fact-free columns of the pre-election news cycle, in which she predicted that Mitt Romney would win because she'd been seeing a lot of his yard signs around, lately. Well, now comes the post-election follow-up: Peggy Noonan is resigning from her job as a WSJ columnist, in acknowledgement of the unavoidable fact that she is an embarrassment to her profession.

Peggy Noonan—White House veteran, Sunday morning talk show staple, author, Wall Street Journal political columnist, and intrepid explorer of America's darkest corners—is paid handsomely to offer her professional, expert political opinions, which many readers take very seriously.

Andrea Peyser—leading hate and sex and hate sex sexxxpert at New York's trashiest tabloid—has, at long last, issued her presidential endorsement. She has made her choice primarily on the basis of her feminist values.

Peggy Noonan. White. A white woman, yes, a Manhattanite, but a vital white woman, a woman of opinions, of breathing, of warbling on Sunday talk shows, about America—this America. This country. This great city, New York, where Peggy Noonan sips a gin fizz, contemplates that good American, Ronald Reagan (yes, a good man), and ventures forth—outwards, into the great bustling metropolis—to see what she can see. Lo! Peggy Noonan is surrounded by nonwhites. And what is that awful noise?