Sugg is upset because his employers like to make enough money to keep the lights on and the newsprint bill paid. . . . not to mention pay his salary? He must long for the good old days of the Great Speckled Bird.
If he were serious, he would move back up to NYC and write for the Voice. But he can't - he's not that good. And he likes to eat.
So, periodically, he salves his conscience by writing one of these diatribes. His bosses don't mind, so long as he doesn't do it too often.