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These periodic kvetch-fests about the depredations genre suffers at the hands of cruel, pretentious literature do remind me of the "War on Christmas," insofar as the narrative of conflict is maintained almost solely by the party claiming persecution. Also in both cases, the wounded-bird routine is performed on behalf of a group that holds an overwhelming majority, and an even larger share of resources.
Let us weep for Goliath, that he must face a child with a sling.
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