Monday, July 27, 2015
A Little Bit Of This; A Little Bit Of That; Reality Check; Condensed Version
What a sad state we're in. Gluttons for punishment. Everybody has scars including me only I'm man enough to admit it but guess what? I don't care anymore. I don't trust anyone, not a soul, maybe my mother, that's all. Most of you are fine, decent people with really good intentions and don't want to rock the boat. We're cool. The others I have no use for and if that's supposed to mean I'm PNG in these parts, then fine then.
I'm wise to a lot of you. You don't fool me nor the readers who come here for honesty and the truth behind your fake faces and boobs. Your ultra-enlarged egos and self-flattery --look where that got you? This is a pit now. There's some talented people but they are in the minority. And the viewers and listeners are on to your BS--they've moved on in droves; the diminishing crowd. Which is what happens when the product becomes marginalized and you have to sift through 5000 hours of commercials and when you're looking at a lightweight news reader who was only hired because she's/he's cheap enough and may cater to a certain demographic--that's what your industry has been reduced to. Are you proud of yourself now? Oh and you work in San Francisco? Big fucking deal. I was there when they actually paid real money and not the stupid money they pay today for you, sloppy seconds and thirds. All of you, teleprompter readers; with the fake boobs and insincerity; talent-challenged hacks who in proper years would struggle to make it in Barstow; AM radio actors with your shallow voices and fake image of yourselves; shame on you. You too, the few of you left in newspapers; in reality, stenographers who in car sales parlance, are referred to as "green peas", yeah, amateurs. No wonder newspapers are dying.
I AM NOT disgruntled. Far from it for I know here I don't have to pivot or offer fake drivel. I don't have to kiss proverbial ass or tell people on the air "how great the new format is gonna be;" --I don't have to insult the audience on a daily basis with false bravado about a used black Bentley; I don't lecture people about "having kids is the only way you become an adult and justify your existence because you now have responsibility"--You mean the responsibility of cheating on your first wife and making fellow people who work beside you miserable and, in one case, literally crying outside the door? What's up with that? Who'd want to work with that asshole; that lying, conniving, cheating person who mails it in every day and stopped working years ago. Not me.
Before some of you trolls begin lampooning me and insulting me because I dare solicit, like KQED, donations to keep this site independent (outside a few Google ads) I have never had more readers than I do now. Over 300,000 documented page views every month and 25,000 unique visitors --real numbers (I just got to figure out how to monetize and I will) because I know I have an audience, MY audience, my loyal readers. Trolls, if this is bluster, so be it. Nobody put a gun to your head and forced you to come here.
I said I would take the gloves off and I have started but because there's so much to sift through I will instead do so individually, in my style --I'm not backing down but I also don't want to give the impression that I'm angry--again, far from it, more disillusioned and frustrated over the amount of human fakes there is in these parts. I used to put off people saying how beautiful the Bay Area is but that the native San Franciscans were a bunch of assholes. Not all but quite a few. I see it now.
The Bay Area used to be a special place. Real talented people. Now we've been reduced to It's a small world after all. And yet, YOU, Lieberman, cover it? Aren't you a coward, a hypocrite? Absolutely I am, worse than that too as some of you are aware of but I can't dictate the system --it is--as they say: It Is What It Is.
I've committed to this spot as both a purpose and service; an unexpected service to people who want to read about Bay Area media; who were blind-sided by one of the worst broadcast/business decisions ever; who expected more reticence and sincerity from a once-legend who now sells mattresses and utters verbal sweet-nothings to 50-something housewives in Pleasanton. And please, don't mess with me on his medical situation because that's off base; one has NOTHING to do with the other. He knows that--so do I. We all have issues in our life. All of us. I don't wish him any ill will there --please, be serious.
To be continued...
Stay tuned or go listen to some cooking show on the radio.