Where do feminists learn to write so badly?

Clicking through from Ann Althouse, I wasn't sure what to think of this Judith Warner column in the New York Times. I wasn't sure what to think because Warner is so damnably foggy as to what it is she wants to say except maybe, "I am a woman. And a mother. And life is sometimes inconvenient. Hear me roar."

I take it that Warner is some kind of feminist, and perhaps the sister-in-law, niece or college roommate of someone very important at The New York Times Co., because I can't imagine why anyone would want to read such useless drivel as this:

. . . I saw this very clearly the other day, in a chance email exchange with my friend D.
She had written me to share some anxieties about the recession. They were very real and very pressing, and in the past, I would have responded with very pertinent examples of how things were much worse for me.
This time, however, tapping into great human reserves of calm and centeredness, I tried instead to lead her into staying with her feelings.
"Hang in there. Things will be O.K.," I wrote. . . .

She gets paid to write that crap. A "chance email exhange"? As opposed to what? A carefully orchestrated email exchange?

Then you notice her thumbnail bio, which tells you that Warner was the author of a 2005 New York Times bestseller. And yet "things are much worse for" her?

At which point, you struggle to resist the hope that she invested her money -- all of it -- with Bernie Madoff. You struggle, but you don't struggle too hard.

UPDATE: A woman whose blog title I greatly admire has some thoughts.