well, squeaked by another deadline. the story had to be in my editor's Inbox at 9 a.m. London time, which is 3 a.m. here in DC. i hit 'send' at 1:41 a.m. then stayed up the rest of the night drinking. nothing inspires like waiting till the last minute. if you learn nothing else from me, let it be that.
it was quite possibly the best article on industrial manufacturing of all time. wait a minute? what am I talking about "possibly?" it WAS the greatest article on industrial manufacturing of all time! the fact that i haven't won a Pulitzer yet is a fucking disgrace!
a while back my editor said he entered one of my articles in some contest for best article or something, but i didn't hear anything about it since then, so i guess i lost. Fuckers. they don't want me to win. because they're afraid of me. They are afraid of my power!!!
midfuckepiphany --> journalism's most h8ted
it was quite possibly the best article on industrial manufacturing of all time. wait a minute? what am I talking about "possibly?" it WAS the greatest article on industrial manufacturing of all time! the fact that i haven't won a Pulitzer yet is a fucking disgrace!
a while back my editor said he entered one of my articles in some contest for best article or something, but i didn't hear anything about it since then, so i guess i lost. Fuckers. they don't want me to win. because they're afraid of me. They are afraid of my power!!!
midfuckepiphany --> journalism's most h8ted
If I could vote for Pulitzers, you'd be a shoe-in for sure.
(Why do they say that? "Shoe-in"?)