Me in the company of this godforsaken Cartier ad, in the middle of my screen while I’m trying to read The New Yorker online (I’m traveling) for you nice people. The worst part about it, even worse than the fact that it’s all in my face, following me everywhere I go like the eyes of the Mona Lisa, is the gratuitous number and clashing array of typefaces it uses: bold, italic, “fancy-pants.” (When I’ve read more of my stunning Print magazine, I’ll know what to call these things.) Cartier, we’re breaking up. I have a breakfast date somewhere else.