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My editor, my oppressor

You have heard of me. I operate the Dullatron. I drain the life from reporters' articles. I am a copy editor, determinedly extinguishing originality as I slap a coat of battleship gray over all that is fresh and imaginative.  Or so I have heard, or overheard, during the past three decades.  Now a reader sends me a link to "Against Editors," a Gawker article by Hamilton Nolan, in which one can find a familiar tone: "It is also a farce. The grand traditional print media system—still seen today in top-tier magazines and newspapers—in which each writer's story is monkeyed with by a succession of ever more senior editors is, on the...