New York Times columnist Roger Cohen today condemns "Twitter-Bashing Bores," those fellow Baby Boomers who "fail to see that their irritation about Twitter, Snapchat and the rest is in essence irritation at the new." Perhaps his colleagues will read it.

In the fall of last year, I noticed a lump in my left neck which felt to me like a run-of-the-mill swollen lymph node. When it didn't go away I sought the advice of a doctor. Several months and countless medical tests later, the official diagnosis is stage IV non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.

Emma Keller is a Guardian columnist and wife of former New York Times editor Bill Keller. Today, she tackles the topic: is this woman who is dying of cancer tweeting too much?

Kathleen Parker—who, despite ample evidence of unfitness for the position, is still a professional newspaper columnist—seems confused today. Is all this "income inequality" talk even a real thing?

"For a little while in my teenage years, my friends and I smoked marijuana," writes David Brooks, the pop sociology professor of choice for Republicans hip enough to drive Audis. "It was fun." Was it, David? Was it really?

Kathleen Parker, the Washington Post's Pulitzer Prize-winning(!) racial alarmist columnist, ended her year proudly by being named one of the Least Important Writers of 2013. In honor of that, she's made sure that her latest column immediately qualifies her as one of the Least Important Writers of 2014.

With a flowery but platitudinous column of cobbled-together homilies on the most hackneyed of subjects ("For 2014, Tweet Less, Read More"), Frank Bruni closes out 2013 in the most Frank Bruni-esque possible way. We'd say "better luck next year," but we're not optimistic.

O Peggy, my Peggy, so heady—gentle Peg! She travels, unravels, then babbles—is she dead?

Frank Bruni—who, as a New York Times columnist, holds one of the most coveted jobs in all of newspaper journalism—reveals today exclusively in the paper of record that he saw a movie not too long ago.

Why are newspaper opinion columnists so consistently baffled by the politics, technologies, and social mores of the 21st century? We've crunched some data, and we think we've figured out the answer: They're old as hell.

Recently, coddled celeb Oprah Winfrey said that this great nation (America) still contains racism. Oh, poo! One post-racial colorblind white male Christian rock producer and USA Today columnist has something to say about that.

John F. Kennedy. A man. A president. An American. He died a long time ago. Now, it is 50 years later. Do we still live in a magical time? Only Peggy Noonan has the words to capture this age of miracles.

Cotton-topped ladies man Richard Cohen hilariously poses as a "liberal" columnist at the Washington Post, despite being... how can we put this gently... a power-worshiping bigot. Don't take our word for it. Please, read the paragraph he wrote today.

Today, New York Times editor-turned-cranky-columnist Bill Keller's column consists of a long back-and-forth with crusading anti-imperialist Glenn Greenwald. The "must read" portion is not about the NSA, but about Times conservo-nerdlinger David Brooks.

Sex-obsessed tabloid hatred columnist Andrea Peyser calls for banning books in her column today. Good to see you back in the game, Andrea.

Charles Krauthammer is a conservative columnist with a permanent sourpuss etched into his self-impressed face. He is not a sports columnist, okay? Yet he has managed, quite impressively, to come up with the single most inane solution yet for the "Washington Redskins" name controversy.

The New York Times opinion section is adding more than two dozen international contributing columnists, from Kenya to Iran. Thomas Friedman will ask each of them to drive him around in a cab.

Breathy Reaganite Peggy Noonan has lived. She has stayed in a hotel, traveled to darkest Brooklyn, and even seen a Mexican. Who better to explain this world of ours—this world, a wide one—to us, the Americans, the brave, the free?

Cotton-topped moron Richard Cohen is, of course, an awful newspaper columnist. We're used to his steady stream of ill-concealed bigotry, horny romance diatribes, and routine contempt for the entire idea of "journalism." But now, Richard Cohen is forging bold new frontiers of fucked up sexual obsession.