The Sunday Styles section of the New York Times exists to make folks mad, to be sure (and to sell handbag ads), but it is not really worth getting mad about this past weekend's paired section-front irritants—a profile of BuzzFeed editor-in-chief Ben Smith, and a trend piece about people forsaking Brooklyn to hipsterize towns in the Hudson Valley—at least not at face value. Each hits the obvious flabbergasting or infuriating notes as it is designed to: OMG LOL BuzzFeed b/w Aren't Hipsters Awful. As far as the intentional content goes, there's nothing to do but roll one's eyes and move on. Let's go ahead and do that, shall we? First BuzzFeedBen:

How do you respond to a New York Times piece that illustrates, in depth, the essential un-usability of your hot new $100,000 high-performance electric sedan? If you're Elon Musk, Tesla Motors CEO, you do what any good tech executive does when he wants to appeal to an audience of geeks: You dump a lot of data.

Her 20-year supply of pop-political topics exhausted, Maureen Dowd goes back and starts running 1992 columns over again.

Well-meaning but inept New York Times columnist Frank Bruni is living proof that being a newspaper columnist is harder than it looks. As a normal newspaper writer and food critic, he seemed like a smart, erudite guy; as a columnist, he has proven to be remarkably free of insight or interesting ideas of any sort. Say, did you catch Frank Bruni's column Sunday entitle "The Land of the Binge?" If not, allow us to sum it up for you.

Imagine: a New York Times without articles about retirement or a Health section, no Gail Collins, and Paul Krugman wearing a bandana and a cool pair of shades. Endless trend pieces about the death of chivalry and instead of a Metro section, just something called BKLN. The Style section grows three times as large, and covers the same young literary darlings multiple times per edition ("They're young, Ivy-bred, have read Baudrillard, and love cigarettes. Totally boss.")

Sensitive, out (whatever that means) soul singer Frank Ocean is up for six Grammys, recently saw his beloved debut album channel ORANGE go gold and was the de facto good guy in a recent scuffle with pop culture's Big Bad Wolf, Chris Brown. Right now, Frank Ocean is America's sweetheart. The primary function, then of Jeff Himmelman's 6,000+ word profile on the singer/songwriter for the upcoming issue of the New York Times Magazine, is taking Ocean's image down a peg or two. "Frank Ocean Can Fly" does so immediately by leading with Ocean's snobbery when faced with Himmelman's economy rental car: "Frank Ocean did not want to ride in my rented Ford Fusion; that much was clear," goes the piece's first sentence. Instead, he had Himmelman drive one of his BMWs — Ocean couldn't on account of his New Year's Eve pot bust.

Today, the New York Times reports on Michael Olajide Jr., a former pro boxer who's now a personal trainer in the West Village. It seems his fitness classes are very popular with the fashionable set.

What is a secret drone base that's not actually a secret? The Washington Post and the New York Times revealed today that they were among a number of news organizations that participated in a blackout regarding the location of a "secret" CIA drone base in Saudia Arabia at the behest of the Obama Administration. But it turns out that base had already been reported months earlier—including by Fox News. In the case of the Saudi drone base, the Times and the Post weren't protecting a state secret: They were helping the CIA bury an inconvenient story.

Buried deep within a fascinating New York Times Magazine profile of the French spy novelist Girard De Villiers comes the fascinating tidbit that many at the CIA think Iran - and not Muammar Qaddafi, as the official story goes - was behind the 1988 Lockerbie bombing, which killed 270 people.

New York Times television critic Alessandra Stanley's casual relationship with the truth has been well documented. She decided America invaded Iraq in 2002 and not 2003. She re-appropriated a common CNN slogan to MSNBC. And her crowning accomplishment: a rare triple correction on Walter Cronkite's obituary which earned her a scolding from Katie Couric. Her summary of NBC's 30 Rock, which has its series finale tonight, is only a little bit less wrong than usual.

This plan from the New York Public Library to have Sir Norman Foster gut its beloved central building and rework it, getting rid of the pesky "books" there in the process, all in the name of modernization and The People and prudent money-management—Michael Kimmelman, holder of the office of New York Times architecture critic, has reviewed the plan, and he has delivered the verdict, and the verdict is: DEATH. The library and its "celebrity architect," Kimmelman writes, have cooked up a plan for a "money pit," an "Alamo of engineering" that will pointlessly deform a vital and important structure to no good or useful end.

New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, a mustachioed humanoid robot with a limited vocabulary, was programmed by his creators to do whatever it takes to get his simple, cartoonish message across, even if that means repeating that message over and over and over without end in the nation's premier news outlet until all of us bow down and accept it, just to get him to stop saying it.

We'd be remiss if we let this story from the New York Times' weekend Real Estate section pass without taking a moment to remark upon the fact that it is little more than a litany of lies.

There is a great deal to ridicule about the New York Times' "Weddings and Celebrations" section most of the time, and it is right and meet for us to come together and do so.

If your idea of a perfect Sunday is one that opens with you going temporarily blind following a fit of frothy, incoherent rage, The New York Times real estate section is your jam.

Practically every literate human has entertained the idea of writing a novel. For most of us the idea fades as soon as something good comes on TV. But imagine if you wrote short stories for a living. Imagine if you wrote dozens of incredible short stories over almost twenty years and became the world's most famous living short story writer, but still never published a novel. Wouldn't you really really want to write a novel? In other words: Why the hell hasn't George Saunders—New York Times-certified "Writer of Our Time"—written a novel?

Today, the New York Times ran a story titled "Restaurants Turn Camera Shy," about the push back against the now ubiquitous act of diners taking photos of their food. As one would expect of a Times trend story about frivolous bullshit, no one profiled in the story comes off as sane and/or respectable. But who's the worst? That's for you to decide. Here are the candidates:

If the upcoming Lindsay Lohan/James Deen vehicle The Canyons is half as entertaining as Stephen Rodrick's New York Times Magazine piece about it, it's going to be fantastic. The 8,000-word article reads like an exhaustive documentary on the Paul Schrader-directed, Bret Easton Ellis-written film (that has since been rejected by Sundance). It is what those on Twitter would refer to as a "great read."

Sometimes the New York Times profiles people that are genuine monsters of upper-class naiveté and privilege — like, say, the parents that have their kids flown to summer camp on private jets or The Ivy Plus Society. But sometimes the NYT does stories on well-meaning people whose lives end up looking really inane in print, like the non-married spouses who fret about the ridiculous names and phrases they call each other.

On this, the final day of 2012, allow us to draw your attention to what is—if memory serves—the most obnoxious letter to the editor of the New York Times Book Review of the entire year, conveniently published in yesterday's edition.