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Archive for "Oct 24 2004"

Another Shit on Jeff Jarvis

First, there is this.

That’s my local paper’s Internet face, courtesy of the Newhouse family’s chief Internet numbnut. It leads with fucking bowling scores. This, the newspaper that is the foundation of the Conde Nast empire.

See those “blogs” they list?
Of course you don’t. Look deeper.

Go dig through the asshat
menu madness.

Found them?
Staten Island paper, right?
All New Jersey, the blogs.
Every. Fucking. One.

Nobody who lives here
writes the Staten Island blogs
not even the sports crap.
His team can’t even get a blowhard
like that fat mouth Price
to get onboard
as a Staten Island voice.
Except for “Island Girl.”
Who is either made up
and written by his ‘hands in their pants’ minions,
or needs a baseball bat
whacked on an upswing between her legs
hard enough
to send her back to the Valley,
or at the least Brooklyn.

For that abuse of my Island, alone, he deserves buckshot up his Buzz ass.

Jeff Jarvis
God himself should kick your ass.
In person, after reading that bullshit
you call a sermon.
You’re a corporate whore slut fuck.
And even your religion
reads as such.

Memo to Capt. Asshole: God didn’t make a mistake, as per Noah. God cut humanity some slack and they came up, on the whole, lacking. So he wiped the slate while saving the true. And invoking Rather is just so fucking crass–but reminding the parish you’re a hot shot Media guy–and then using it as an excuse to take a shot at President Bush and wash Clinton as screwing up by covering up … HE HAD HIS DICK IN A BIMBO’S MOUTH WHILE SITTING IN THE OVAL OFFICE.

Don’t call yourself a blogger, Jeffy.

The term presumes you’re just another rube
with a modem and an opinion.
Not a scumbag with an IT department,
and unlimited bandwidth
at your fallow fucking finger’s reach.
Trying to gain the position
as New Media doyenne
(“Ill be on some fucking TV show talking about blogs
when I’m not attending bullshit conferences
on my Si Daddy’s dime
as corporate as your credit card
and giving She of the Holland Tunnel Asshole props
after selling out for the dollars
into the Old Media matrix
and trying to play some golf.

You could, singlehandedly, make Newhouse newspapers
the bellweather of online papers.
Instead, you fucking take a walk and head off to conferences
that you write off
as business expenses.
And try to talk
like you’re the freaking fountainhead.
You’re a Stern Whore.
(as friends and locals can tell, I’m still highly enraged at Fingerboard Road.)

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