To whom it may concern:
It has come to my attention that you are looking for a new provincial affairs reporter.
Actually, keep laughing, but, as you do, be cognizant of the fact that one of the reasons that you have lost so many readers over the years is that you churn out a never ending diet of copy that makes people want to kill themselves. If you’re going to continue to grind out miles of misery, at least mock the miserable assholes who create clouds of gloom and doom with their endless bullshit.
Way back in 2004, I not-so-subtlety hinted to your good selves – in a letter to your august selves -that the people were clamoring for something different in journalism. Admittedly, I have not followed your organ since then, but from what my friends in NO FUN CITY tell me, you’ve made no attempt to heed my sage advice.
As you may be aware, the public now consider journalists no more worthy of trust than politicians, or even, yikes!, lawyers. Given that you are the self-appointed keepers of the journalistic faith, you must know why that is, no?
Well, my friends, let me give you one example that will hit close to home.
Back in early 2002. a story broke that was of some import to your readers. Gordon Campbell, the then Premier of British Columbia, was arrested in Hawaii for drunk driving. You dispatched veteran reporter Petti Fong to Maui to get the story.
Fong investigated and filed a compelling story about Gordo’s night in the drunk tank. In his infinite cronyism, your then publisher, Dennis Skulsky, decided to spike the story. Someone in your newsroom decided that the story was worthy of ink. That diligent muckraker packed Fong’s piece into a manila envelope and sent it to me, knowing that I would have no trouble getting this important story run in Terminal City.
You have asked for writing samples that show a history of investigative reportage; I humbly submit my Terminal City piece about your miscarriage of journalism as my soul sample (we were going to nominate the piece for a Webster, in the category of investigative reportage, but the joy we’d have felt by embarrassing y’all was overruled by a need to satisfy a more primal desire, so we used the $100 that was needed for the entry fee to slake the powerful thirst we’d worked up running down the story).
And, truth be told, we figured investigative reportage was overrated, anyway. Hell, we left all that breaking news stuff to the working press, and still managed to do our duties to the people by approaching stories from the glaringly obvious angles y’all managed to miss, or ignore.
While it’s true that I have, on occasion, been guilty of making shit up (c’mon, I’m satirist, WTF do you expect?) I’ve not been guilty of that nearly as often as you and yours have been guilty of covering up, or glossing over shit, which is, after all, a much more heinous crime.
Oh yes, I am an asshole. But, if you think the opinion of Seymour Hersh (I assume you know who he is), worthy of consideration, I just might be the asshole you’re looking for.
According to this piece from The Guardian, Hersh says that newspaper publishers should, “‘fire 90% of editors and promote ones you can’t control.”
Running wild is anathema to the bootlickers who are dragging journalism down into the gutter where politicians and lawyers dwell. Journalism today is overrun with:
- pathological liars, political cowards, intellectual perverts, shameless charlatans and unrepentant lickspittles who, no matter what they do, will never, ever get the respect and love they crave from their alleged fathers, and who spend long, lonely nights masturbating into the underwear of their alcoholic mothers
- estheticians and flower shop girls lacking the common sense to engage their gag reflexes in order to avoid swallowing all the poisonous bullshit they are fed, three or more times a day
- former frat boys completely devoid of the ability to think laterally and critically but endowed with a keen understanding of the joys and simplicity of press release reportage
- dumb-as-jocks j-school grads putting in time until they can ascend the food chain by signing on with a morally bankrupt PR firm or hitting the big time by landing a gig as a writer for a reality TV series
If you are looking for None of the Above, I look forward to parlezing with you about the possibilities.
PS – I feel it only right to caution you that I will require a significant (magnificent?) budget for performance enhancing substances (see pic above), if you expect me to be all I can be, and consistently file on deadline.
Brian Godzilla Salmi