Maybe it's the approximately 417 vodka sodas I swilled last night for no good reason, but is New York's Sarah Jessica Parker/Sex and the City piece the most mesmerizingly insane thing ever or what? Emily Nussbaum strolls the streets of the West Village with the teeny tiny television star, gushing about how she is charmingly strange and thoughtful, how noble and free her spirit is. I have to question the decision-making behind assigning such an ardent fan of the actress and her highly influential show to this particular task. Nussbaum's greatest criticism seems to be that Carrie maybe pursued Big for his money. That's it! In a seven-internet-pages-long article, given the great and fascinating topic of how this particular television program (and upcoming movie) came to define this city, in many ways, more powerfully than any other bit of culture in recent memory, Nussbaum bares no teeth, questions no stereotype or bit of calculated misinformation. She simply brags to us that they're hanging out. And that's exhausting and sad and pathetic. What a fumble. Or, I don't know, something about tumbling on high heels. Some choice quotes from the article after the jump.