Over lunch with a friend the other day I got to natter at length on my theory that one reason so-called real media missed the run-up to the meltdown and continues to publish dispatches from an alternate universe is that so many journalists are paid so much more than much of America. And damned if that wasn’t borne out by the story of an editor claiming to be priced out of the farmers’ market. He’s gotta be making over a hundred grand even with a pay cut (and if he isn’t, he’s not much of a negotiator), and he can’t afford local milk? Which costs the same in my market as the industrial organic if you return the bottles? That would be ridiculous enough in the week when “Food, Inc.” made it graphically clear what you actually get with cheap chicken. But then he had to turn around and blog-flog $10 strawberries from that very evil Greenmarket — $10 for half a fucking pint. Get your story straight, please. Shouldn’t readers be told to get themselves to the nearest fruit cart? No wonder the cheapest rosé ranked was $14. That’s just Two-Buck Chuck to the Taj dwellers.