Matt Taibi nails the media

http://nypress.com/18/28/news&columns/taibbi.cfm

EXPERIENCE REQUIRED: Calling the news cycle shots.

By Matt Taibbi

I was away on a story last week when it occurred to me that I'm getting tired of all this travel. Maybe, I thought, I should find a job closer to home. So it was with more than idle curiosity that I flipped through the Times want ads, and came across the following:

NEEDED: Assignment editor in important cultural organization. Must have no morals and be completely full of shit. 5+ years exp. required. Serious applicants only.

It was Sunday, but I called right away. A woman answered:

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm calling about the ad."

"Are you completely full of shit?"

"I'm a journalist," I explained.

"A good one?"

"A hack," I said. "But at night, I sleep like a baby."

She paused. "How does Tuesday at nine sound?"

"That's fine."

On Tuesday I dressed in a suit—unusual for me—and went to the Park Avenue address. It was odd; I'd never noticed before that the News Cycle had its own skyscraper. The interview was in 4411, in the front-page department. A man with slicked-back hair and fat yellow suspenders from the 80s waved me inside.

"Rick Rothstein," he said. "Glad to meet you."

"Matt Taibbi," I said, shaking his hand.

"Right. So, Matt," he said, retaking his seat behind his desk. "Why do you want to work at the news cycle?"

I shrugged as I sat. "Well," I said. "I'm immensely lazy, and I want to make gigantic money without having to move or think much. Plus, as I've gotten older, I just don't give a damn anymore."

He nodded and wrote in a notebook. "Those are all excellent reasons," he said. "What makes you think you're qualified?"

"Are you kidding?" I said. "I'm a completely depraved media figure. I promise you, I'm absolutely rotten to the core."

"Hmm," he said. "Did you cover the Michael Jackson trial?"

"I covered the shit out of it," I said, beaming.

"Okay," he said. "Well, we have a standard test we give to applicants here. We need to know if you really understand the news cycle."

"Shoot," I said, folding my arms.

"Okay," he said. "It's Monday morning. There were no late-breaking stories on Sunday night. The president is in Belize, attending an international conference on climate change. What are you looking for when you scan the wires on the way to work?"

"That's easy," I said. "A blond white child trapped in a dumpster."

"Where?"

"Anywhere," I said. "Montana. Missouri. Florida. It'll probably be Florida—that's the first place I'll look."


And it only gets better ...

:bounce: :rofl: :headbang:

will absolutely die. Tom Friedman's book.

I didn't know what to think of him then, because I'd never heard of him. But Buzzflash linked this last week and it's a :rofl: read.

Is this for real? Ugh.

Love it !