Even that, though, was not as jaw-dropping stupid as the piece about Newman’s Own at “much-loved” Fairway, the Rollerball of food shopping. It had the feel of someone tap-dancing — clumsily — all over a fresh grave that had already been pissed on once that week. Has journalism really come to this, hanging out in the vinaigrette aisle to coax crude comments out of old ladies? Now, if someone had gotten punched with accompanying cuss words, I would have believed it. . . .