I spent the last six months having phone sex with Pinch. He calls, I lie about polls, readership, advertising and revenue, while he says things like, ‘Omigod, I love it when you talk like that.’ My work with that family is never-ending. I think of myself as a more attractive Nanny McPhee for the dimmer Sulzbergers.
But my new mission is to answer spurious assertions and libels about me by bloggers left and right. I am recasting myself as a Man of Truth. There are people out there who think that just because I didn’t violate the taste standards of a family newspaper by dwelling on the unpleasant side of colorful revolutions, I was ignoring the truth. No. You don’t report an accident by describing all the internal hemorrhaging. You just hit the main points and move on. Details are for coroners. Genocide is for Ukraine. Eggs are for omelets. And so on.
Look for me everywhere, spreading truth behind me like pixie methane.