Word came down from America’s commentary class around September 13th,
2001. Irony was dead. In what would come to be called “The Post 9-11
World,” there would be no room for that particularly distasteful form of
discourse. It was to be replaced by soft, sweet sincerity. Somewhere,
an eagle shed a single tear.

Of course, reports of irony’s death were greatly exaggerated. A few
weeks after the tragedy, irony made a heroic, if modest, resurgence.
Great exemplars of the form like The Onion and Jon Stewart went back to
their grindstones. Hipsters in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn slapped on their
Roos and drowned what was left of their trauma in Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Within two years, America was watching The Simple Life and basking in
contempt.

…