Showing posts with label blogger code of ethics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogger code of ethics. Show all posts

Bill Clinton...snared by Mayhill Fowler, a sniping senior! LA TIMES, shame!





The LA TIMES hailed Mayhill Flower - an over-the-hill self-proclaimed writer cum sh** disturber - as an outright "media revolution" in the morning paper.


In the tabloid-style piece, James Rainey argued that the so-called roving web "journalist" (I use the term very loosely) had a big one up on pundits and newsies like Tim Russert, Katie Couric and Larry King in recent days because she allegedly won the contest for nabbing the most provocative presidential quotes to date.

Bullsh**!

One of the quotes Mr. Rainey was referring to was an eyebrow raising comment uttered by Clinton - which she caught on video - in response to a question about the upcoming Vanity Fair article in which Todd Purdum disparaged the former president.

When you read the article - and are made privy to the machinations of Ms. Fowler leading up to the event - then it's quite obvious to any fifth-grader that the back-stabbing bottle-blond is "no journalist". In fact, she's not even a cut above an ambulance-chasing attorney, a private dick hiding outside Motels scrambling for the dicey goods on cheating husbands, or even the handful of tabloid writers who invent scintillating tidbits to titillate the nation at supermarket stands each week.

With a bit of gleeful cluck, Ms. Fowler attributed the big "scoop" to persistence, serendipity and the flouting of old rules of mainstream journalism.

Forget about the serendipity, there was nothing the least bit magical about the moment.

As to the flouting and persistence - yup - the two culminated in sleaze-ball conduct that ranks her right up there with the Nixon-era gang who "rat-fu**ed enemies of "dirty dick".

In contrast, she proudly boasts about her own slimy maneuverings.

"Of course, he had no idea I was a journalist," she chirped on the telephone to the reporter who was all ears. (I had no idea either)

"He just thought we were all average ordinary Americans who had come out to see him. And, of course, in one sense, that is what I am."

Whoa, Nellie!

You call an ambushing smut-chaser an average ordinary American?

Not content to let Clinton just twist in the wind in the aftermath she was inclined to stir up the intrigue a bit.

With dime-store-novel flair she confessed to the reporter that originally she intended to slip Bill her business card (Yeah, guess she figured he goes for older tail, too) with the hope of landing an - um - interview.

Darn it all - during a hot flash or something - she dropped the little name plate on the crowded rally floor - so what was Nancy Drew to do?

"I managed a handshake, but my mind went blank," she wistfully recalled of the moment that brought the moth close to flame.

"I missed my moment," she ruefully recalled to Rainey.

Yeah, at that juncture, she must have been just about p**ing her pants.

But, as fate would have it (Rainey himself was quick on the uptake and managed to piece the end scenario together on the fly) "...ever the ebullient retail politician, (Bill) reached out a second time."

Eureka! The Gods were smiling down on her, no doubt!

Now the female primal call for self-preservation was thrown into high gear as she scrambled for a scratch - an itty-bitty scrap of something - to snatch her back from the jaws of oblivion.

Yes - the Vanity Fair accusations that Bill dirtied his legacy by running with unsavory friends and business associates - would do the trick.

The hungry tigress leapt towards her prey.

"Mr. President, what do you think about the hatchet job somebody did on you in Vanity Fair?"

Ironic, in view of the fact she was just about to heave-ho the old axe herself into Bill's back.

When he responded with his infamous comments - "slimy, dishonest" - she videotaped it knowing full-well what she intended to do with the footage as she innocently gazed intently into his eyes.

She's a real piece of work, eh?

Ms. Fowler, sorry to burst your bubble, but -

You're supposed to be reporting the news, not creating it, fool!

No wonder celebrities, politicians and other luminaries in the public eye are wary of the media.

In sum, the premeditated efforts by scumbags like Fowler to launch an assault to assassinate character, underscore that she - and others like her - are nothing short of stalkers and slashers out for a merciless kill.

You're not a journalist, Ms. Fowler, you're a menace to the community at large.

It must be an ugly sight when you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning.

As to the LA TIMES?

Well, they should be ashamed for glorifying such disreputable unethical conduct.

No wonder the daily has lost its luster in recent days.

But, it makes a great liner for the kitty litter box.

Meow!

Bill is irresistible, after all...

New York Times...blogsters up in arms over Emily Gould exposed (gawker.com) coverage!

Would the real Emily Gould step forward, please...


A brouhaha has built to a fever pitch over the past few days since the reputable New York Times Magazine (Sunday Edition) posted a cover story (a confessional essay) written by former gawker.com blogster - Emily Gould.

One commentator lamented the angst of the many,

"How can it be that such vapid foolishness be accorded the importance of a cover piece in the Times Magazine," Leo Dymkoski (?) raged in an obvious snit.

L.M. - ("lips moving", perhaps?) - demanded that the newsies at the top dog media outlet in New York City,

"Please stop embarrassing our generation with mindless prattle."

The flood of mostly negative comments poured into the portal so fast and furious - that the NYT's response forum was overwhelmed. Webmasters temporarily froze the discussion launch 'til they were able to clear a staggering backlog.

In the aftermath of the seismic quake that shook - not stirred - the blogs around the globe, Critics and media analysts hastened their plumming of the mystical depths for answers to "what just happened" - and concluded the musings were obviously more profound than "vagaries of internet micro-celebrity".


In one unsuspecting moment - a quiet "green light" for an off-beat feature - managed to unwittingly tap a vein of "media-world animus" lurking in the shadows, previously uncharted (or even imagined).

To some, Ms. Gould was simply narcisstic.

To others, self-absorbed.

Others lambasted the redcoat for "unapologetically pursuing a kind of reportage that featured her as the main character in every story and the people around her as supporting actors."

A reporter in the LA TIMES rubbed salt in the wound when he expressed the view that, "...thanks to the Internet, this kind of performance journalism - where the writer is her own subject - is gaining ground."

Well, that may be a bit harsh.

In some quarters, a blog is simply a new-fangled "diary", that spits out and sets adrift scratchy thoughts daily - left alone thereafter to pitch on their lonesome - on the tumultous waves of the media sea.

As to the issue of positioning one in the piece?

Well, in view of the myriad number of news outlets clawing about in the blogosphere just now, I surmise it behooves a writer to personalize a story - tell it from an intimate point of view - on occasion.

Otherwise - blog features drawing on the same tired old sources leveraged to all ad nauseam - would end up on the world-wide-web sorry tales - all carbon copies of each other.

Notwithstanding, irate readers in this instant scenario have another option. Why waste valuable grey matter sweating over such an insignificant tawdry issue?

Especially in view of the fact that to some,

"There is no such thing as bad publicity."

I disagree, but I'm probably in the minority in that regard.

Personally, I'd prefer to be bestowed with the prestigious honor of recognition in my chose field of endeavour, in a more dignified - rarefied light - when it comes to my moment in the sun.

In fact, a handful of bloggers accused the author of tyranical machinations, pointed the finger for fanning the flames for the sake of celebrity.

That is a far cry from penning an article innocently - or from the heart - then being hit by a tidal-wave of media attention in spite of the fact no bait was offered up seeking that end.

The former probably deserves the disgust of the madding crowd.



I was amused when one journalist inferred that Ms. Gould had broken some kind of code of ethics - pooh-poohed proper etiquette - or a blogger rule or regulation.



Is there a forbidden line in what one labeled - the peep-holed-filled boundaries of the Internet between the public and the private - where one dare not tread?

If so, then let's cut to the chase.

Is there a guide blog freshmen - or Internet newbies - can turn or subscribe to in a good-faith effort to fathom the social-political mores to adhere to...so that one may plot their musings to subtly jive with the axis of the Internet and its intricate myriad mysteries?

The dictionary has yet to list "blog" or "blogger" within the pages of their sacred march of words. Indeed, the internet - and its inhabitants - have yet to be fully defined literally or in a legally significant context. Go figure!

In my mind's eye, the Internet has the potential to be a thrilling adventure - "into the wild" and the "untamed" - and a virutal freewheeling territory ( a new frontier) - where the adventurous may be beckoned at a whim to explore - unhindered by the sluggish, prudish, high-strung few - who lack the intelligence, imagination, or vision to embrace it.

Let's not silence a voice because we don't warm up to the message it's transmitting.

Instead, apply the meaning of an old familiar phrase,

"Consider the source"

Then move on, unspoiled by the rude interruption.

Gloved ones gave gawker blogster the finger...

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