Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Social Media (?wtf) in the County Executive Race

Journalism used to be easy. Get the story, write it. Maybe you'd have to grease the sources with a cocktail. Maybe.

Now, there's "social media"? You know what "social media" is up here? Group porn. Everybody shows up at Nev Chandler's, Gary Dee brings some home movies, and we all get "social" with his "media".  Which is apparently not very different than yours, mortals!

I haven't seen such incestuous self-feeding cannibalistic daisy chaining since crawling up Dick Pogue's nether regions with my tongue. (a girl can brag, right?) Here's some guy pretending to be another guy, whispering sweet nothings to this lawyer and that lawyer, in some strange code....I ran this by Liza Minelli. "Honey, that's an early rewrite of a spiked Cabaret script gay bar scene, seemed too contrived!" Kids, just hop in the sack already! Keepin' it pent up ain't gonna do you no good.

Came across this.

Is that a preamble from a Cleveland Foundation grant application? Honey, the talent left with me, everybody knows that. Here's someone thinkin' they can pull the wool over the eyes of Old Dot.

Here's a 19 year old Republican in the race.

Can someone get this kid laid, laid laid? I think he'd find that a more fulfilling pursuit.

Then I found this.

Well, I just had to run this by Ghoulardi. 

"Hey Dot!" He thinks I'm there to tip toe through his tulips.

"Ghoulardi, what the hell is this."

"Genius, of course!" Great. Now I have a debate about "art" on my hands. "Didn't you just 'interview' that guy, Dot?" He winks. So now I'm busted. My corset pops off, Ghoulardi gets busy. A few swings in the ceiling mounted stirrups later, Ghoulardi walks me through the "art" over a Bloody Mary and a Lucky Strike.

"The floating angel gloriously bears a laurel wreath, of Greek mythology origin, made of interlocking branches and leaves of the bay laurel, (Laurus nobilis), an aromatic broadleaf evergreen, or often of spineless butcher's broom (Ruscus hypoglossum). Get it?"

Like I need this. "It's a conundrum? Perhaps a paradox?"

"You think too much, Dot." This is why I was happy Ghoulardi was on the other station's air, I didn't have to pretend to listen to his bullshit routine at the station Xmas party. I strap on my corset, head back home for a nap.

Getting this scoop is gonna take some heavy lifting.

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