In this week’s New Yorker’s table of contents, I saw some article titles that never were:

On the job with a Michelin Impostor

(Michelin being the French restaurant raters.)  It was really “Michelin Inspector,” but “Michelin Impostor” would have yielded a lot of interesting results.  Think about the ire of the French chefs when they realized they were lowering themselves to suck up to someone who was not even the real deal!

Beijing loves Canadian Food

This was a real blurring.  The first article was “Letter from China: Beijing Loves Bordeaux,” followed by “Canadian Journal: Funny Food.”  Honestly, it surprised me that the Chinese loved Canadian food, given that they are pretty much obsessed with domination and doing things their way, and while the Canadians do steadfastly hold to many of their own modus operandi, they’re not exactly who comes to mind when I think of world domination. 

If these are the articles I’m creating in my thirties, I can only marvel at prospect of what I’ll come up with in my 70s.  I’ll start writing a whole new genre of novels!  And become like the grandmother in the movie version of About a Boy.  (“We’re having duck?  Delightful!”)