on BART

Two girls, or women, talking loud and fast about the crush of downtown shopping, the lameness of the men in San Francisco, a crowded "lounge" ("you can lounge, but there are like 40 people on top of you").  Soon talk turned to blogs: one of their friends had been forced by "her CEO" to keep a daily work blog, for which they both expressed scorn.

1: There's this girl at Harvard who was keeping, like, a Harvard sex blog.
2: Omg really?  What house was she in?
1: (ponders) Mather.
2: Did she, like, write about parties and stuff?
1: Well, no, it was about her, like about the guys she had sex with.  But then, I don't know, she got to her second year and had to work harder in school so now she mostly posts about her homework.
2: Blah, that's lame.  "Harvard Study Blog" -- who's going to read that?

Here the train halted at the Powell station.  Was Powell their station?  It was.  They hurried off; we stayed on until Civic Center, because we were going to see Hilary Hahn.

Damn it, does no one have the requisite poison ink to satirize this generation?  Are interest and distance now entirely incompatible?  Is it because there's so much cuddly satire now, not meant to instruct, and so much hostile satire, also not meant to instruct, that the best sort has vanished?

All unanswerable questions, as usual.  Your source for.  I'll admit that my interest-distance ratio is really too low, but surely someone could do this.  Someone on Vox, even!  Someone.