Rachelle Hruska, Dear (Or: "I Am Using Your Name In The Title Of This Post To Ensure The Words "Your Name" Appear Well-Regarded By Google")

Isn't the left-side beautiful? Writing something here is the difference in between climbing into a fluffy, cool, made bed, and laying your head to rest on a pile of angry, craggy rocks.

Anyway. I guess this is where I'm supposed to take the (Kosher-certified/Omaha) beef, right? I was going to wait a week to do this, but in a week this thing would be long gone (and thus, maybe, kinda new again). Two days after and now it's just tired, totally uninteresting, and something we've all moved on from. This is my version of totally burying a news cycle via quicksand effect. Of course, there's that other way of doing it, by just shutting the fuck up, but in the grand tradition of people who can't shut the fuck up (namely: everyone reading this), that's just not gonna to happen.

I've already said: I've had a great time. And if none of the involved parties enjoyed this, you are joyless, sad, and angry. There's been a lot of blood pressure raised over this! I got a stern talking-to in a clurrb! And I'm not going to get into who's "right" and who's "wrong," first, because the only people worth listening to about being right are - and forgive the Garrison Keeler-esque folksy shit here - people who are capable of admitting that they're wrong, who are also (like people who can shut the fuck up) in short demand around these parts. No, the only way to measure this thing is by who "won," and when I say "won," I mean, out of all the people I've interacted with in the last week, who has the lowest blood pressure that isn't plagued by pre-existing medical condition (hypotension, namely). I'm just going to start walking around with one of those portable monitors and being all like "Gimme your arm!" Creepy, yes, but also: statistically effective. And we know how I love me some stat porn (Nic will get this).

Anyway. Here's the email I sent to Rachelle Hruska, and the response I got back. I'm not linking shit. If you're here, you know what happened by now.

1. BlackBook definitely pays guest contributors (well-documented dispute with an in-breach freelancer aside).
2. Real talk: "Largely unpaid staff" is the quote I got from the Times, which you assured me time and time again was "real journalism" and then put me on blast for using that line as a source of information. If other "real journalism" needs to be called up and double-checked, how real is it? If the Times got the story right, they would've written about your "largely paid and cared for" staff and the "largely unpaid content" you receive from friendly contributors on the site. Right? What if I'm not the only reader who drew the conclusions from the Times piece that I did? Should they all call you, too?
3. Paying for writers and paying for journalism are two totally different things. I'm not paid for journalism. I'm paid to blog. Ask anybody at Gawker if they'd call themselves journalists; ask Nick if he'd call any of his writers journalists, I can't imagine he would. [I read the Howard Kurtz piece after writing this. In it, Denton notes that any journalism that happens at Gawker is incidental.] Would you call yourself a journalist? Anybody coming to Gawker for New York Times-level reportage might be a little off the mark (then again, Jayson Blair, so, you know, that whole thing) - they have an obligation towards liability. Gawker's been wrong before; as you said this morning, so have you. Now: let's say an organization only writes what they get straight from the subject (inherently biased in the subject's direction) without providing their readers with context or opinion. Then they're writing press releases and being a mouthpiece of the subject. And what's uglier: an outlet tethered to the information it gets from the subject (and nothing else) or one that can see around the interference the subject's going to post?
4. You blasted me for not calling you before I was going to run my piece. You didn't call me! :(
5. I wouldn't compare what I did to Fox News. Mean! I'm not exploitative and nor do I pride on hurting people; I'd call it ribbing at best and digging into at worst. Fox News is malicious. You know that.
6. You misspelled "plesant." I only care about this because it was the one nice thing I got said about me! Although, in all honesty, I'm probably more plesant than I am pleasant.

Other than that, you were definitely right about the following things:

1. "Populist demagoguery" is pretty much the name of the game with every Gawker Media site [especially those vigilant fucking gadget nerds]. That's what I get paid to do, though, that being said, it's not always the populist fire I'm feeding (sometimes, if you've ever read anything by Gawker's frightening weekend commenters, you'd see it's an anarchist minority. They're a readership worth worrying about). Also, what a phrase to use! Whether or not you give a shit about journalism, the writing is most definitely there. [Though I will say, the Sunday Styles specializes in a certain kind of dem-a-gog-ur-y, though most of their readers would think that's a new skin treatment.]
2. "As you know from the Times piece, I left a secure job in finance to take on tremendous risk and a drastic pay cut to build GofG. As it stands, the world we live in isn’t perfect and the income disparity between industries does not always seem “fair” or “right.” A discourse on the root of the problem is probably one that exceeds the scope of both your and my skill sets." (A) It's admirable, and I've said as much often, and (B) you're absolutely right on all counts here.
3. And as Rachel Sklar will be very quick to tell you, I'm still very much a beginner at this. You know this is my seventh weekend, right? I've done some pretty great things (most recently: scooped everyone on the sale of VSL to the Observer, on a Sunday, no quotes required. And I was right!), but when you're writing Gawker single-handedly, nine to thirteen posts a day, and trying to do it during the weekends, your ability to get quotes is limited. (Cajun Boy has the same problems at night [though he did manage to get ahold of the Megan Fox-fatkid-fan identifier!]; but the Gawker Manna From The Gods - the Sunday Times - isn't coming out for him every night). Does that mean I shouldn't write the stories? Shit, I hope not. In both cases, I could've gotten quotes from you and Sklar, and maybe I was wrong for not making a good faith attempt on both ends (though the situation with Sklar is TOTALLY different; she didn't have the information on you - the Times article - out there on her). So: I'm still learning. Isn't that nice, though? There're worse things than a guy who can take his licks and roll with 'em as lessons thereafter. Nice job. We can buy each other rounds 'next time. -f.

Her response to me, below. My comments in bold.

1. i was talking about their interns- i know a couple they are not paid WTF?
2."I understand how the line in the NYTimes article that described GofG as having a staff “largely unpaid” reads, however, your interpretation and understanding of this quotation is incomplete. This quotation, admittedly deserving clarification, attempts to convey the user-generated component of our content structure." id you read that? I did, but Hruska's the one comparing me to the "real journalism" of the Times that needs clairification. Also, funny aside, though: assuming you do pay four people, the Huffington Post only pays five. So you're still better than her.
3 this is much longer discussion
4.i posted on my wee tumblr, not a site that gets --what is it 22 million hit snow? Fuck if I know. Denton probably piles on the numbers anyway. I think he told Sharon Waxman over eggs that we're more read than Google, or something, and she believed it. Which is superb.
5. feelings have nothing to do with this-it's factss I first read that as "fatass," so maybe I'm just projecting. But yes, factss.
6. thank you i fixed and you are pleAsant:) For my first club-oriented altercation, you were as well. I fully expect Rachel Sklar to shake me out over a roof like Suge Knight next time, though.

Are we done?

Heart Of The City (Ain't No Love) - Jay-Z feat. The Roots

State of the Internet, Part 4: Resolve, Questionable Or Otherwise, Revisited.

Sometime in December, I decided I was going to put together a three-part series on the Way Things Are Now versus The Way They Were and The Way We Want Them To Maybe Be. Things were really fucking bad in December, and they continued to get worse for a while, and it was a long, long goddamn winter for many of us. For example: Did you know that I almost quit media/New York/writing and was this close to moving back to Asheville in February? You do, now! Others, though: not so much! Anyway, the project fell by the wayside and/or victim to the KB, like so many of the other things we tend to do around here. When the B-Side boxed set comes out, god. damn.

But here we are! In the spirit of the left-side revival, I've dug deep and re-animated this fucker, this beast, this three-part series, one part of which was written in the back seat of a car in a trip from Miami to Tampa that involved Taco Bell and a fear that I would never sleep again.

Before going home for the holidays, I contacted a nice sample of media people who had seen some degree of success (or tragedy) over the course of the last year. These are the ones who got back to me with their New Years resolutions. I would provide context for them, but they're all invited to please pitch in on the comments, and let us know (in their own words) how they're doing. And if they won't, I'm sure someone will. L'chayim!

Keith Gessen, Author of "All The Sad Young Literary Men": I've given this a lot of thought and in truth my plans for the coming year for the Tumblr and my ongoing war with the internet are complicated and contradictory. Mostly they involve staying away from it and that as much as possible. On the other hand, I put some porn up the other day--and, I have to say, that was fun. I'm not promising anything. But--keithgessen.tumblr.com. Happy New Year.

Rex Sorgatz, Spencer Morgan profilee: I resolve to never again find myself in a circular, incestuous, flaming, anonymous, insidery, hate-bating, clusterfucking, lulzing, tumbletarding "online debate" held on some stupid blog's comment thread. FUCK. YOU.

Caroline McCarthy, cNet reporter, "The Social": A few months ago I realized I walk around with my fists clenched. I don't see how this could possibly be a good thing. My New Year's resolution is to stop walking around with my fists clenched. I know it sounds lame but it's a big deal for me, really.

Jeff Rosenthal of The Real: This past year, I spent too much time trying to be like Julia Allison. No, I didn't drink BluePrint cleanses; I didn't pretend to enjoy Mary Rambin's company; but I, like Julia, didn't get paid for my internet venture. So, next year, I hope that changes. [Or: "2008 was, for me, all about being a Microcelebrity. Next year, I hope to be Internet Famous."]

Will Leitch, columnist at New York Magazine: In 2008, I went to two foreign countries (bringing my lifelong total to "four"), switched jobs, spent a month-and-a-half driving across the country, parried threats of bodily harm by a future NFL Hall of Famer, was called a racist on National Public Radio, and made lifelong enemies with a legendary rapper, a diminutive sportscaster, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a billionaire. What do I want from 2009? I want to sleep.

Alex Blagg, lead editor at Wonderwall: I just hope that in 2009, someone comes up with yet even more new ways for me to pointlessly consume and disseminate information on the Internet. There's still a solid 20 - 30% of my day that I spend "unplugged", totally unsure of what to do with myself, terrified I might be missing something somebody said about someone. Please, half-baked young social networking start-up people who favor fashion accessories and the arbitrary omission of vowels - help me.

Jeff Bercovici, formerly of Mixed Media at Portfolio, currently of Daily Finance: Oh, man. I had a resolution but I already forgot it. Seriously. 2009 is not off to a good start.

Ana Marie Cox, Wonkette emereti, Daily Beast contributor: I resolve to not work for a dying publication or industry ever agai--- oh, wait...

Sheila McClear, Gawker emereti, ASSME and Daily Beast contributor: OK! Starting January, I'll be exploring the annals of unemployment for the first time in eighteen months. I'm thinking of taking up new hobbies that could serve as income-generators, mostly involving the off-track betting parlor in Greenpoint. I won $7 on a scratch-off the other day, but it just wasn't enough of a rush. I would also like to cut down on benzos and blogging.

Okkervil River - The Latest Toughs

Previously: "This Year"

Who's House?

Artist's rendering via NVC.

Holy shit. I'm clearing out the cobwebs here. It's been so long since I've taken to the left side/since Paolo first blogjacked it that the floorboards are all creaky and I just got some dust up my snooter and ACHHLEW! [Ed. Gesundheit!] Speaking of which, there's a party tonight: it's Katie's birthday! And speaking of skiing, Katie's a great skier. Srsly!

Anyway: this reminds me of that time, like, a few weeks ago, when I offered the backchannel an opportunity to hold a roast for 99 at his birthday party (predictably, at Joe's, The Most Depressing Bar On 6th Street That Isn't The Cherry Tavern). Nobody responded, so for his birthday, he ended up with one drink (purchased by me, which does nothing to chip away at a year's worth of YM-subsidized booze) and an email full of bad police brutality jokes.

As for Bakes, I would roast her, but it's hard! For example, my source material:

• She has this innane obsession with Mickey Kaus that I really don't understand.
• Did you know there was once a picture of her in Business Week when she was like, ten, because she ran some kind of forum for thicknecked Rangers fans on Prodigy or something? Truth!
• She also has friends who don't work in media, and she doesn't work in media, which makes her media fetish as unhealthy, strange, and worrysome as Curt's. That being said, if she ever gets a job in media, I'm leaving New York: that'd be like going home from college to find out the Girl Next Door got addicted to Oxycotin after hanging out with all the bad kids for so long and managing to completely stay out of trouble. DO NOT WANT.
• I can't think of a single person who doesn't like her, which sounds like non-compliment, but around these parts, it's really not. Also, she taught me what advertorial was and didn't make fun of me for not knowing sooner for more than, like, a week.
• Katie's the kind of person that can survive having a facist roommate without bludgeoning them, which is also impressive. This actually happened, and the worst thing Bakes really ever did about it was break down the door to her apartment, which she contends was not an act of agression so much as the need to go to the bathroom. She's even too nice to admit that she was raging against the (Jewish NeoCon) machine.
  
• She devotedly wears her Giants jersey when she watches games at home.
  
• Her dogs smell (or: look like they smell) and she likes them anyway.
  

The point is, there's really not that much to roast Katie over, or maybe there is, but really, like, how could you? Anyway. She's (predictably) having another party at Barramundi and I fully intend on buying her and her charitable cause a drink. She is wonderfully smart, talented, a great friend, by far, the funniest writer on the YM masthead and inextricably (maybe, for her - and especially for Dave - tragically) part of the family. Katie, you might be a shiksa, but you're our shiksa*, goddamnit. This joint goes out to you:



*But Bakes is not the only shiksa in the YM-Tang Clan! I'm not sure exactly what persuasion Spiers is, but she probably renounced it, like, nine years before you've even heard of it, anyway.