Meanwhile, Mark Segal Is Rewarded For Toxic Levels Of Fading Irrelevance With…
… a new column at The Inquirer, where toxic levels of fading irrelevance are continuously rewarded. It’s the only way we can really explain the installation of Segal at the Inky at this precise moment, when drums of doom from all corners seem to be tapping out the SOS for his ouster as The Voice Of The Gays In Philly. It’s oddly fitting that he’d be preserved, St. John Nuemann-style, under plexiglass at the Inky, though, where nothing could penetrate his wall of sound and fury, simply because nothing would want to.
The end of Empire is a curious thing.





