So, back to bed. Wake me up when there's a real scoop to cover. You don't think Ol' Dot already has these pimps pegged? I need reminding what a barren wasteland of sellouts and whores Cleveland media has become since I kicked the bucket like I need Tom Brazaitis rubbing his hairy ass between my heaving bosom. Please. Dog bites man ain't news.
But before that, awards! You know, the new business model. Lists! Let's get to it.
Joel Rose "Panties On Their Face" Award - Tom Beres
For excellence in carrying water for an advertiser running for high office. Ol' Dot can see a politician buying off a TV station from a mile away. Apparently, Tom can't see it sitting in the edit suite for 15 years staring right at it.
Ted Stepien "Scheisterism" Award - Jimmy Haslam
For achievement in carpetbagging. Two years ago, CLE never heard of this two bit thief. Now, he's got the city throwing bags of money at him no questions asked. Clever!
For record time high speed copy and pasting from a PR flack while seeking to fleece poor people. To go from your favorite PR flack's freakout, to column in print, in 48 hours, suggests hyper reactive muscles in the cut-paste area of the index finger. If I had that kinda finger, I wouldn't need Gib Shanley in the boudoir.
For achievement in bewildering others. Who the hell is this guy? Ghoulardi can't stop talkin' about him, watching his videos, cackling like a hyena with laughter. And Ghoulardi's the only guy who gets the joke apparently!
For performance in high suction at the public teat while bankrupting seniors for cash. Fifteen years is a long time to be liquidating seniors' assets so they can live on Medicaid. The American Dream! Soon, he'll be living high off the taxpayer too. This guy is the Mary Lou Retton of prostitution! Can't wait til he arrives in the Great Beyond, gimme that Hebrew, I'll make a man out of him. He'd look great swinging from the stirrups with Barnaby's parrot dangling off his nose. That, I'll wake up for.
For excellence in bending over. Journalism stopped being a profession in CLE when I kicked the bucket, and this guy is the most bloated maggot feeding off its dead carcass in town. Look at that hair!!! Get him up here! Do you have any idea what Tom Brazaitis would do with this guy in my steel cage whip and chain chamber? I could sell tickets!
For selling out your own kind for a buck. Twice even! To fellow honorees! Once to Armond Budish, and then to Jimmy Haslam, all in the span of a year.
For achievement in repetition of a billionaire's sales pitch. Talk about soiling your own reputation. It's OK Tom. Nev Chandler is up here waiting for you. He has a thing for baseball announcers which flares up whenever he hits the sauce a bit too much.
For shoveling tens of millions from poor people to billionaires TWICE in 8 months. I mean...wow people. When me and Sam Miller used to kick it in Shaker, after a sweaty roll in the hay, Sam would talk in his sleep dreaming about someone this shamelessly Dickensian. Now, he's got his man.
For pimping herself out for Gateway TWICE in one LIFETIME. That shit speaks for itself, kids. At Peter B. Lewis's bong night last week, I talked to Arnold Pinkney about this dish, and he couldn't stop laughing. Maybe it was Peter's herb.
AND FINALLY!!!!!!
For obvious reasons. This corpulent porcine discount rack whore really is the Mona Lisa of billionaire prostitution, no? Even his tie is color coordinated! Ol' Dot used to bump into his type at the Theatrical on a Tuesday night, you know, when it's a bit slow, and the pimps are the only people on the street in town. They'd put this guy to work in a heartbeat. The Van Sweringens toss dude's 8x10 around just to start the party. Like last night at Margaret Bourke White's canasta game - took us an hour to deal another hand.
Well, kids, I'm off to slumber for a few more years. Or decades. Or maybe I'll get eternity this time, seems there's no return for journalism in Cleveland, so why not sleep out the entire existence of the cosmos? This is Dorothy Fuldheim, signing off.
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