Someone compared the promoted writers with svintusami, made their way to the trough. Feeders have little space. Svintusy guzzle, chomping and choking, pushing, rather grunting, contemptuously glancing with small pig eyes at the skinny unlucky fellow pen. They did not get space at the trough ... It's about the writers. Journalists are divided into those who clean the Augean stables - and those of these stables leave, gamboling, on a glamorous horse. Not the fact that on white.