
In the world of sports, it’s obviously critical to have the best possible players on your team in order to win.
It’s essential to have the right coaches and trainers on board, to help those players do their best, and to put them in a position to triumph.
It’s vital to have the right management team in charge: scouting, hiring, and acquiring the players and coaches that a team needs to be successful.
All those things are important, clearly. But without principled, moneyed ownership to pay all the bills, choose the right lieutenants to call the shots, and provide all the ingredients to make the championship pie — without sticking their fingers into it as it’s cooling — a sports team will be hard-pressed to win championships.
That’s why Frank and Jamie McCourt’s ownership of the Los Angeles Dodgers has been a complete and utter disgrace.
This pair of Beantown parking lot magnates flew cross-country to purchase one of baseball’s greatest franchises in 2003. They’ve since given themselves full West Coast makeovers, and their egos have ballooned up to Hollywood standards.
For reference, this is what they used to look like:

The McCourts have used the Dodgers as their own personal cash cow and id vehicle, acquiring washed-up Red Sox players and dealing away top prospects for cash as they go on ridiculous spending sprees and jet around the country in Gulfstream IVs.
Now the McCourts are getting divorced, and feuding like children for all to see.
The resulting fallout could cripple the franchise, because neither is rich enough to own the team in the aftermath of a costly split, let alone invest the money the Dodgers need to get stronger.
Of course, they don’t give a whit about that, because Frank and Jamie McCourt are narcissistic boobs.

ROTI issued our first takedown of the McCourts last offseason, when we accused them of pinching pennies and not doing what it took to bring back stars Manny Ramirez and Rafael Furcal.
Those jerks shut us up by getting both players under contract. The Dodgers got out to a great start, won the NL West (not without a fight, though), and made it to the playoffs.
However, before the team was even eliminated, Frank McCourt fired Jamie from her position as CEO of the Dodgers, accusing her of insubordination and an inappropriate relationship with an employee!
Jamie retorted, “You can’t fire me – I OWN this team!”
This immediately kick started a divorce court battle that centered around the question “Who owns the Dodgers?”
Major League Baseball insists that one controlling owner be determined for each franchise, and in this regard, Frank McCourt is the owner of the Dodgers. He’s also got Jamie’s signature on a document to that effect.
However, it seems possible that the team is part of the couple’s community property, and thus subject to 50/50 division in California divorce court.
Further complicating matters is that the team was purchased in a highly leveraged deal. The McCourts were never that wealthy to begin with (by sports team ownership standards).
A new blog called Dodger Divorce, written by Joshua Fisher, has done a brilliant job of breaking down the couple’s purchase of the team. It concludes a wrapup of the evidence with these damning statements:
So, if you’re counting at home, the above adds up to $421 million in financing…for a $371 million purchase. That, friends, is a little scary….
We know that the McCourts aren’t worth anything close to the $1.2 billion Jamie suggests. At most, the couple seems to have something approaching $750 million in total net worth ($400 million in “other assets plus ~$350 million in equity in the Dodgers). However, it is my guess, based on the loan balances due on the residences and their history of operating heavily-leveraged businesses, that the couple’s net worth is under $600 million.
If the team is determined to be an asset of the marriage, either partner would have to become heavily leveraged to take the other out. If no agreement can be reached and the court orders the Dodgers to be sold to a third party, expect a bit of a discount on the purchase price, leaving both McCourts with even less…
What I really want to emphasize is that the McCourts aren’t worth as much as you think, and breaking up this marriage is going to cost them both dearly.
Not only that, but it’s going to cost the Dodgers dearly.
If you want evidence, just take a day trip south, where the San Diego Padres have suffered immensely after their owner, John Moores, divorced his wife. Moores was utterly strapped for cash and had to sell the team; in the meantime, the franchise floundered.
What makes this so much worse than the Moores/Padres situation is that the McCourts’ divorce is not merely harming the team’s bottom line — it’s playing out in the papers on a daily basis, overshadowing the club and humiliating Dodger fans.
Where to begin…let’s start with Jamie’s divorce filing…
ShysterBall did an absolutely glorious job of summarizing Jamie’s opening salvo.
There’s no way I could recap it all here, so check it out when you get a chance. For true legal junkies, there’s also this link to the filing itself.
She wants $320,967 in monthly spousal support if she gets her job back with the Dodgers. If she does not get her job back with the Dodgers, she wants $487,634 a month.
Jamie led a push to have the environs of Dodger Stadium given its own zip code and the name “Dodgertown, California.” That’s so lame I’d expect to see that as an accusation in Frank’s filings, not a supporting point in Jamie’s. Jamie made $2 million a year when she worked for the Dodgers. You can look at this one of two ways: as an awful damn lot of money to pay a person for coming up with stupid stuff like “Dodgertown, California” or as a total steal considering she made 1/6 the money Jason Schmidt did and actually, you know, did stuff.
Description of lifestyle: more on the private air travel (private jets at $12K an hour) fine hotels (always over $1000 a night) and nice dinners out ($400+ a pop). Good for them. What kills me though is that the next time there’s a labor impasse, Joe Fan is going to side with the owners and complain that the players are the greedy ones who make too much money to play a kid’s game.
Jamie wants her job back as Dodger CEO, but even if she can’t get that, she wants all the “perquisites, emoluments and benefits” that come with the job and with co-ownership of the Dodgers. That’s perks and fringe benefits to peasants like you and me. The list of perks is long and includes all of the sorts of things you might expect the owners of a billion dollar company to have: Private jet travel, five star hotels wherever she goes, use of the “Dodger credit card” and the like.
The only one that has me scratching my head is “private security when traveling in dangerous locations.” By that I can only assume she means road trips to Queens when the team plays the Mets.
Actually, what it means is that she wants Frank to foot the bill for the companionship of her personal “bodyguard,” Jeff Fuller. Also known as her road beef.

Here’s an AP report on Frank’s divorce filing:
Los Angeles Dodgers owner Frank McCourt on Wednesday filed papers opposing his wife’s demand to be reinstated as the team’s chief executive, citing insubordination and an affair she allegedly had with her bodyguard.
The documents were submitted one day after Jamie McCourt filed divorce papers seeking to regain her $2 million-a-year job.
In a filing submitted by the Dodgers that opposes her return to the team, Dodgers attorneys allege that Jamie McCourt took a trip with her bodyguard, Jeff Fuller, in early July to Israel on team business, but then headed to France for 2 1/2 weeks and billed the Dodgers for the trip. Jamie McCourt is also accused of not giving her husband any information about her assignments as chief executive and not providing the team with her schedule of public appearances.
In a declaration filed by Frank McCourt, he references Fuller as well, saying before his wife went on the trip she asked him for three things — one of which was to have Fuller be her driver.
Many harsh words have been exchanged in a public back-and-forth waged daily in the Los Angeles papers between the McCourts’ divorce lawyers.
The guys they brought on board to do battle are extremely experienced LA attorneys with storerooms full of high-profile celeb divorce paperwork. Suffice it to say, their billing rates are ample, and every cent comes out of the Dodgers’ bottom line.
Some of the harshest rhetoric surrounds Jamie McCourt’s role as President/CEO of the Dodgers, and whether her efforts helped or hindered the team in the first place. (BREAKING: As this item went to press, the court denied Jamie’s attempts to be reinstated as CEO.)
Bill Shaikin of the LA Times has been a clutch journalist on the case, and here’s his wrapup of Jamie’s side of the story:
Jamie McCourt claims she was actively involved in the ownership and management of the team from day one, detailing her involvement in executive meetings, hiring and planning decisions, and marketing and community relations initiatives.
“I was the face of the Dodgers,” she claims.
Frank’s attorneys beg to differ:
The two sides also revived their debate on how integral Jamie McCourt has been to the success of the Dodgers’ operations, with attorneys for Frank McCourt belittling her assertion that she was “the face of the Dodgers.”
“There is no ‘face of the Dodgers,’ ” his attorneys wrote, “and, even if there were, dozens of Dodgers figures would rank ahead of Jamie McCourt. The conflict between Jamie McCourt’s focus on her self-image and the values of the Dodgers’ organization is irreconcilable.”
Dodgers President Dennis Mannion has opposed her reinstatement, alleging that Jamie McCourt seldom showed up for work on time, missed meetings and put her interests ahead of those of the team.
Mannion denied Jamie McCourt’s claims that he had instructed team employees not to work with her and excluded her from management discussions and decisions. He said he would have welcomed her involvement had she shown up for work more often.
Mannion further alleged that Jamie McCourt focused on initiatives “designed to cultivate and promote her image as the highest ranking woman in Major League Baseball,” even when those activities “were not financially successful ventures and did not fit the strategic needs of the organization.”
The filing in particular cited DodgersWIN, described in her biography as a program that “brings women closer to the game, brings the game closer to women’s lifestyles, and helps inspire women to use their voices.”
That sounds like one of the stupidest ideas in the history of the game, second only to race-based discrimination. The game is the game, we don’t need to spend money making it “closer to women’s lifestyles.” Seems to me that plenty of women enjoy the game of baseball already without Jamie’s useless efforts. Are you kidding me with this??
Maybe if Jamie hadn’t wasted so much money on first-class accommodations and ludicrous programs like DodgersWIN, the team wouldn’t have had to essentially sell blue chip prospect Carlos Santana to the Indians — the SMALL MARKET CLEVELAND INDIANS — in order to save money in the acquisition of role player Casey Blake.
The sad fact is, while the Dodgers have won a fair amount of games in the McCourts’ tenure, those victories have been owed largely to ex-GM Dan Evans, who ran the team back when Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp was the owner.
Virtually every star Dodger was drafted during the Evans regime, or acquired with prospects drafted by Evans. That includes Matt Kemp, Jon Broxton, James Loney, Aaron Ethier, Russell Martin, and Chad Billingsley. Manny Ramirez was acquired by trading Evans’ pick Andy LaRoche.
There’s one notable exception — star lefty Clayton Kershaw was chosen by the McCourts’ GM, Ned Colletti — but with the 7th pick in the draft you’d damn well better get yourself a guy with huge upside.
Under the McCourts’ penurious regime, the Dodgers have gutted their once-robust commitment to international scouting.
The result of dealing prospects for cash and skimping on bonuses is that the Dodgers’ once-stellar minor league organization (this is a team that once churned out five straight NL Rookies of the Year) is now one of the worst in baseball.
[T]he Dodgers have done relatively little to replenish the organization. Baseball America last spring ranked the Dodgers’ farm system 23rd among the 30 teams.
Gordon and pitcher Chris Withrow emerged as elite prospects this season, but the minor league depth is limited by the Dodgers’ limited investment in it.
The Dodgers have paid $8.5 million in signing bonuses for draft picks over the last two years — the lowest figure among all major league teams, according to Baseball America.
The Dodgers, so proud of their heritage in Asia and Latin America, today are a non-factor in bidding for top amateur players abroad. In 2008, according to Baseball America, major league clubs combined to sign 115 such players for bonuses of more than $100,000. The Dodgers did not sign one.
“They’re definitely not the pioneering team they were,” Baseball America editor John Manuel said. “They’ve squandered that advantage.”
Dodger Divorce points out that improvements to Dodger Stadium will surely be sidelined by the accelerating court proceedings.
Other observers, including Shaikin and LA columnist Bill Plaschke, accuse the McCourts of blowing a chance to acquire ace Cliff Lee — last seen mowing down Yankees in the World Series:
It has been written here countless times since the end of July that the Dodgers would have been a serious World Series contender if they had been able to trade for an available ace starter like Cliff Lee.
The Phillies acquired Lee instead, and it is the Phillies who are in the World Series this week, using Lee to steal a Game 1 victory from the New York Yankees.
The Dodgers finished second in the Lee sweepstakes this summer because the Cleveland Indians judged the Phillies’ prospects to be better. It turns out that the Dodgers didn’t improve their offer because the McCourts would rather invest in the cheaper lower-level minor leaguers than pay the remainder of Lee’s $6-million contract this year, plus his $9-million option next year.

Go away, McCourts. Now.
Sell the team and go live in one of your many mansions, or even better, pitch a tent in a parking lot.
(Oh, I forgot. News Corp foreclosed on those.)
Los Angeles deserves far better ownership than these two chumps. Dodgers fans are being robbed blind by these two carpetbagging hedonists, and it’s only going to get worse from here unless they find a way to unload the team and do it soon.
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Elections were held in New York City and Boston yesterday, and both cities re-elected their mayors to new terms.
Yet the true results of these elections were as different as the cities themselves.
In Boston, Mayor Tom Menino won a record-setting fifth consecutive term in office, defeating challenger City Councilor Michael Flaherty by 57% to 42%.
In NYC, Mayor Michael Bloomberg won a third term, but by a narrow margin, defeating insurgent William C. Thompson by 51% to 47%.
Boston’s Menino is being called “Mayor for life” this morning, while observers are reacting with shock that New York’s Bloomberg barely got himself back into office, despite high approval ratings and a staggering advantage in campaign cash.
Both men have come a long way from their childhoods in Boston — Bloomberg left town to become one of the richest men in New York City and the successor to Rudy Giuliani, while Menino has never strayed from his enclave of Hyde Park, and slowly, gradually amassed a iron grip over the city of his birth.
Menino cruised where B-berg struggled yesterday because he knew something that the Wall Street billionaire didn’t – In politics, knowing your role and staying in your lane is an unstoppable strategy for maintaining a hold on power.

Tom Menino is an unlikely master politician.
He won the Mayor’s job as an almost anonymous City Councilor in the aftermath of Ray Flynn’s nomination as Ambassador to the Vatican.
Menino isn’t particularly polished. He isn’t a policy wonk. He isn’t a charismatic figure or an imposing tough guy.
He’s also a fairly horrible public speaker, a trait that has earned him the nickname “Mumbles”:
Through four terms in office, Menino has had his share of shortfalls.
A complete lack of transparency — obstruction of transparency, even — created a scandal that engulfed Menino’s top lieutenant, Michael Kineavy. In violation of the law, Kineavy routinely deleted emails that may have implicated the Mayor’s office in political corruption probes surrounding the City Council.
The city’s education system is troubled, an issue that has dogged Menino throughout the past few elections.
The mismanagement of the Boston Redevelopment Authority has led to large-scale debacles such as the giant hole in the ground at Downtown Crossing:

Challenger Michael Flaherty harped on all these topics and more, and even engaged the active support of the #3 contender, City Councilor Sam Yoon, to form a combination platter that local pundits dubbed “Floon.”
In the end, though, it mattered little, as Menino rallied his winning coalition and cruised to victory for the fifth straight time.
As a compelling Boston Globe piece demonstrates, Mayor Menino achieved this success by dogged determination, unflagging hard work, and a unique knowledge of — and connection to — the city voters who have returned him to office time and again:
On their own, they are petty encounters: A couple of “friends’’ of Michael F. Flaherty were admonished by city workers to get off his Facebook page; a state aide got advice from a city official that led to a parking ticket being dismissed; a Sam Yoon campaign office was cited by city inspectors for having too many window signs.
But taken together, these seemingly inconsequential incidents offer a rare window into the workings of Thomas M. Menino’s City Hall, a place where not even the most trivial slights go unnoticed and the smallest opportunities unnourished.
If Menino is the urban mechanic who famously knows every neighborhood in his city, and is regularly seen in them all, it is his sprawling machine that knows every building on every block, and has a reach into nearly every one.
Menino has assembled the most extensive political operation in modern Boston history over his 16 years in office, rivaling that of legendary mayor James Michael Curley. He’s done it the old-fashioned way, by blurring the lines between politics and policy, between city work and campaign work, delivering services to everyday residents and warnings to his rare foes – many of them intended to strengthen his electoral standing.
“You have to give Tom Menino credit,’’ said City Councilor Charles C. Yancey, a 25-year council veteran who has not endorsed in the mayor’s race. “He really has mastered the nuts and bolts of politics in Boston.’’
The focal point of Menino’s operation is dozens, even hundreds, of city workers who make the mayor’s political cause their own. By day, they perform constituent services, enforce city codes, issue parking tickets, and tow cars. By night, they volunteer their time for the mayor, attending community meetings or campaigning on his behalf.
Take the case of Jack Kelly, the city’s neighborhood liaison in Charlestown, who sent a friend an e-mail, according to documents obtained by the Globe, asking that he remove himself from Flaherty’s Facebook group.
“If he gets elected I lose my job,’’ Kelly said in the first message. When the friend didn’t immediately remove himself, Kelly followed up with another saying, “You’re killing me.’’
Or take the case of Michael J. Kineavy, the former iron worker who now holds the title of Boston’s chief of policy and planning, but is better known as Menino’s most trusted political adviser and most effective enforcer.
Kineavy was able to rattle off, in an interview, the number of people – 14 – who attended a fund-raiser for Flaherty’s mayoral campaign. How did he know?
“There was a guy in the room that was ours,’’ Kineavy said. “What’s wrong with that? It’s recon. That’s not even negative. It’s knowing what your enemy’s doing.’’
A Boston Globe Poll showed that 57 percent of Bostonians have personally met Mayor Menino, a statistic that no doubt contributes heavily to his success in bringing voters back to the polls again and again.
In an interview this morning on WBUR, local political pundit Larry DiCara noted that the key to Menino’s success is a tried-and-true coalition of voters that have carried him to victory in each election: city workers, African-Americans, Italians and liberals.
Like other candidates before him, Michael Flaherty tried and failed to unseat Menino and strip away a bloc or two from his winning coalition.
Tom Menino doesn’t seem, at first glance, to be a particularly impressive politician.
Yet he has succeeded in obtaining an unprecedented fifth term in office as Mayor of Boston because he has built an unstoppable political machine that exists for one reason alone: to run and control the city of Boston.
Many politicians run for each office with another, higher office in mind. Major figures on both the right and left have won major elective office, only to leverage that position to obtain a better one. We need only look to 2008, when Senator Obama left Washington to run for President after only a year or so, while Governor Mitt Romney stumped down South, dissing his Massachusetts constituents for political props.
Mayor Menino never fell victim to the narcissism that leads so many politicians into the throes of the Peter Principle, obtaining that promotion that’s just elite enough to get them in over their heads. He’s a man of Boston, always has been, and it’s now clear that nobody will be able to force him to relinquish his hold over the city until he himself decides it’s time to go.
Brian Mooney provides a fitting recap:
When he was sworn in as acting mayor more than 16 years ago, no one, not even Menino, could have imagined that he would one day become the virtual mayor for life.
How did he do it?
For more than 16 years, Menino’s City Hall has paid attention to the details – zoning, liquor licensing, and congestion – that affect the quality of life where residents do much of their shopping and socializing.
If Menino has a particular genius, it is that he understands Bostonians want to feel good about their neighborhood. That means visible police, antique street lights, and spruced-up business districts. From Brighton Square to Fields Corner, from Roslindale Village to Grove Hall in Roxbury, commercial districts have better stores and more restaurants and improved sidewalks and traffic controls.
He showed up, which matters a lot in politics. From the day he took office, Menino spent most days on the move, in every neighborhood of the city, meeting his constituents and hearing their hopes and complaints. Like Schaefer in Baltimore, he often took action which produced results that were tangible.
His administration devoted disproportionately large shares of discretionary funds to projects in Roxbury, the long-neglected heart of the city’s African-American community.
On matters of race, gay rights, and other social issues, Menino has been consistently progressive. Hizzoner’s Daley-like political machine tightened his grip on power, but even at its most efficient, a great field organization is worth only a few percentage points in the final vote tally. Menino, however, has sturdy political infrastructure in virtually all 254 precincts. His army on the ground is of every hue and generation, and many are City Hall’s eyes in their neighborhoods.
On Menino’s watch, the city has not suffered the financial crises and social upheavals of previous administrations. Crime and public education, always major issues in big cities, have been managed under Menino.
No one has found the silver bullet to solve the problems of urban school systems, and Menino is no exception. But with much work yet to be done on the schools, many voters seem to have given him a pass on an issue on which he once urged voters to judge him harshly.

Like Tom Menino, Mike Bloomberg was expected to win a new term in office, and he managed to do so. However, it was a victory that required changes in city law, not to mention a vast infusion of the Mayor’s personal wealth.
Bloomberg, a multi-billionaire Wall Street executive, whose visionary company Bloomberg LLP changed the way that bankers consume news, first won office in a tightly contested election against Democrat Mark Green.
After a highly successful first term, he captured reelection by 20% over Democrat Fernando Ferrer — a record for a Republican incumbent in New York City.
From the outset, Bloomberg’s management style was modeled on the one that served him well in the private sector:
Mayor-elect Michael R. Bloomberg said yesterday that he would create a large, open office in the heart of City Hall — modeled after the one that he used to manage his private company, Bloomberg L.P. — from where and he and his top deputies would run the city. Mr. Bloomberg said he would relegate the mayor’s formal corner office to mainly ceremonial purposes.
The decision by Mr. Bloomberg, which he disclosed at a news conference yesterday called to announce the appointment of the United Nations Development Corporation president, suggests a major shift in the way City Hall is going to be run after Mr. Bloomberg takes over next Tuesday from his fellow Republican, Rudolph W. Giuliani. And it marks the clearest example to date of the extent to which Mr. Bloomberg intends to apply practices that he employed in the private sector to his first job in government.
”I will be working surrounded by the deputy mayors and main advisers,” Mr. Bloomberg said. He added: ”I mean, keep in mind there are physical constraints on what you can do at City Hall. But to the extent that that is possible — all my life I’ve worked in the middle, and I plan to do exactly that.”
The Park Avenue headquarters of Mr. Bloomberg’s company is a large sprawling floor of desks and computer monitors, without walls or dividers. His desk is set in a corner, visible and easily accessible to employees. Mr. Bloomberg said that the design of that office was intended to encourage employees, regardless of rank or stature, to approach him with ideas and questions. The open configuration has become a symbol of Mr. Bloomberg’s management style in the corporate world.
Bloomberg’s pragmatic approach and private-sector angle on government seemed to be serving him extremely well as recently as a year ago.
This led Bloomberg into an extended flirtation with the idea of seeking the Presidency as an independent candidate, potentially considering spending $1 billion of his wealth on the effort:
One day last July, Al From received an unexpected call from Michael Steinhardt. From is the founder and CEO of the Democratic Leadership Council, the centrist outfit in Washington that helped propel Bill Clinton into the White House; Steinhardt is the once-hellacious hedge-fund manager turned philanthropist whose name now graces the School of Education at NYU, a former chairman of the DLC, and a friend for decades of Mayor Michael Bloomberg. When From picked up the phone, Steinhardt greeted him thus: “How’d you like to come to New York and have dinner with the next president of the United States?”
From replied, teasingly, “I didn’t realize you’re so friendly with Hillary Clinton.”
The genesis of Steinhardt’s call was a conversation with New York City schools chancellor Joel Klein. Klein said that “Bloomberg was preoccupied—no, that’s too strong a word—that he was really focused on whether he should run for president,” Steinhardt recalls. Steinhardt reminded Klein of his association with the DLC and told him that if Bloomberg wanted to meet From “to get some perspective about the realities of running for national office,” he would happily arrange it. Fifteen minutes later, Klein called back and said that Bloomberg certainly did.
[...]
Steinhardt left the dinner buzzing and spent weeks talking up the prospect of Bloomberg 2008 at various dinner parties. From returned to Washington dubious about Bloomberg’s presidential prospects, yet firm in one conclusion. “They’re serious about it,” he tells me. “I don’t necessarily think that they’re going to do it, but they clearly want to be ready if the opportunity is there.”
Until last week, when the furor over the Queens police shooting erupted, Michael Bloomberg, 64, was having a nearly perfect year. His approval numbers, which in 2003 fell to 24 percent, had been above 70 percent since January. By taking visible and voluble positions on issues from guns to immigration to stem-cell research, he’d started to carve out a national profile…
From Bloomberg’s City Hall coterie comes a consistent refrain: that their boss has emerged as more than a competent, steady, managerial steward; that he is, in the words of Deputy Mayor Dan Doctoroff, “a great, visionary mayor.” This sentiment is echoed, not surprisingly, by his friends. “There’s just no question,” says the investor Steve Rattner, “that he is the greatest mayor of New York since Fiorella La Guardia.”
Fast-forward to 2009. Bloomberg wisely chose to avoid a Presidential run, which would have led to his trampling by the Obama juggernaut. Returning his focus to NYC, he presided over a colossal Wall Street crash and an increasingly disillusioned electorate.
Bloomberg persuaded the City Council to change the law to allow him to seek a third term; New York City voters have twice rejected appeals to change this law in the past.
In the run-up to the election, Bloomberg’s campaign team warned him that the metrics had turned against him. Re-election, once seemingly inevitable, would be a brutal slog uphill.
A terrific piece in the New York Times today gives us the rundown:
In the days after the mayor had emerged, victorious, but badly bruised, from his fight to rewrite the city’s term limits law, Mr. Bloomberg and his three top deputies, Edward Skyler, Patricia E. Harris and Kevin Sheekey, gathered in the Staten Island room in City Hall and began to plot his campaign.
They warned him that it would be entirely different from his campaigns in 2001 and 2005. “This will be really hard,” one participant said.
Mr. Sheekey, the mayor’s political guru, urged him to quickly send a warning to potential challengers. He suggested recruiting a high-profile attack dog for the campaign and disclosing it to the press. The choice was obvious: Howard Wolfson, the combative former communications director for Hillary Rodham Clinton’s presidential run…
Mr. Sheekey pushed what he called the Powell Doctrine — a burst of overwhelming force that would discourage anybody who was even thinking about taking on the mayor.
This strategy succeeded in pushing Rep. Anthony Weiner from the race, a victory that in retrospect seems absolutely crucial.
Bloomberg’s ultimate opponent, Comptroller Bill Thompson Jr., ran a lackluster and inept campaign, surprising the Mayor’s reelection team with its almost complete inability to grab the attention of the local media:
The only obstacle remaining was Mr. Thompson. At Thompson campaign headquarters near Union Square, Mr. Bloomberg’s display of political might over the summer — he had spent $37 million by July 11 — was having its desired effect. By August, Mr. Thompson’s advertising team had stopped trying to track the mayor’s television and radio spending, standard practice in a campaign, telling colleagues it was too depressing. Anne Fenton, Mr. Thompson’s press secretary, told friends that she was intimidated by Mr. Wolfson.
At times, the Bloomberg campaign, waging what they proudly saw as a presidential-level operation, seemed puzzled by the poorly financed, sometimes loosely disciplined Thompson effort. The candidate’s daily schedule was curiously light, and easy opportunities to score political points were neglected.
Midway into the campaign, Mr. Thompson scheduled a publicity tour through a foreclosure-battered section of Queens, , setting off fears among Bloomberg advisers that the next day’s papers would be filled with articles suggesting that Mr. Bloomberg had neglected New York City’s neediest.
Team Bloomberg swung into action, dispatching a group of researchers to dig up Mr. Thompson’s ties to what they called an “anti-union developer” and $400,000 in campaign donations from real estate companies. They tapped out a 2,000-word e-mail message to the news media, titled “Thompson’s Rhetoric on Affordable Housing Doesn’t Match His Record” and prepared to hit the send button.
But to their astonishment, the Thompson campaign attracted almost no press to the event. The e-mail message never went out.
Despite the lack of a compelling alternative, some New Yorkers felt strongly that a “not-Bloomberg” vote was the way to go.
An epic rant by Gawker’s Alex Pareene is difficult to excerpt, because it hammers virtually every gripe that the city’s residents have with Bloomberg. Here are some of the highlights:
Tomorrow is Election Day! You will probably not vote, because there are no contested races for anything important in 90% of the nation. But if you are a New Yorker, we have one message: don’t vote for Michael Bloomberg.
You know those idiots who don’t know anything about politics but think it sounds smart to say “I am a social liberal and an economic conservative?” Bloomberg is the candidate for them, if they love a liberal nanny state and a conservative religious fervor for the eternal goodness of private enterprise.
For all the talk of Bloomberg the power-player who at least gets things done without worrying about the unions and special interests, he’s been unable to win any political battle with anyone he couldn’t literally buy off. Like Sheldon Silver, who (thankfully) killed the West Side Stadium and (annoyingly) ended all that “Congestion Pricing” talk. And those unions and special interests were just bought off, which worked fine back when the boom whose end Bloomberg never saw coming was in full swing.
And about that stadium: what the fuck was that? And the Olympics thing? After bitching about Giuliani’s disgraceful subsidizing of the fucking Yankees, Bloomberg both turns around completely on that particular issue and attempts to build the fucking Jets a stadium, so that New York could get an Olympics that it did not want. And that failed, and everyone forgot about it. Meanwhile: 40,000 people in shelters! Bloomberg could personally buy every single one of those people an apartment in a vacant Williamsburg luxury condo building and still have enough left over to bribe a City Council member into supporting his fifth term.
[...]
His record on housing, like his record on nearly everything having to do with the outer boroughs and poverty and human beings who make less than $100,000 a year, has been a ridiculous disgrace. His entire philosophy of development solving everything turned out to be precisely, 100% wrong, and suddenly the city itself was driving the real estate boom, driving up land prices to absurd levels across the boroughs and tearing down neighborhoods only to replace them with vacant lots and half-filled cheaply built hideous high-rises once the bottom fell out of the City Hall-inflated market. But hey, we got the High Line and 311! So you can sleep in that fancy park while you call 311 asking if there is room in a shelter because you can no longer afford your home.
Eight years into the Bloomberg administration, Ground Zero is a still a hole that everyone continues fighting about.
[...]
What he has done is Keep Us Safe by never once giving a shit about Civil Liberties. The cops stop and frisk thousands more people every year, your 4th Amendment rights do not apply in the Subway system, and expensive and completely ineffective new rings of cameras are going up across Manhattan.
Bloomberg deserves to be run out of town on an inadequately funded public rail line for the 2004 GOP convention alone. Remember that ridiculous farce? No, of course not, no one does, besides the thousands of people improperly spied on, arrested, harassed, and detained by the NYPD. All of this was completely illegal. No heads rolled.
One more special bonus factoid: New York leads the world in marijuana arrests! Specifically, marijuana arrests of black people!
And he is personally a jerk. He is a thin-skinned, unpleasant, sanctimonious asshole. His company is being sued for a culture of sexual discrimination that plaintiffs say Bloomberg himself contributed to. He is a tremendous dick to reporters whenever he gets cranky. He is fucking race-baiting with Rudy Giuliani again, because why not?
He has been a shitty mayor and he does not deserve the support of anyone who claims to be a liberal. Though what all of his most destructive missteps as mayor have in common is that they do not in any way upset or inconvenience the well-off self-professed liberals who support him. Besides maybe a couple Critical Mass riders arrested in illegal sweeps. (Though he sure does like bike lanes, so it’s a wash, right?)
We cannot encourage you to vote for the Democrat in the race, because even we still aren’t sure if we’ll go for him or the much more delightful Billy Talen. Just don’t fucking vote for Michael Bloomberg.
Despite all this, Bloomberg won a third term — in a squeaker.
Why?
His unlimited campaign funds couldn’t hurt: the mayor spent $157.27 per vote, as compared to Thompson’s $13.12.
His opposition was pretty pathetic, and he managed to keep Barack Obama from endorsing Thompson – a critical power play that probably saved his ass.
At the end of the day, Bloomberg retains a 70% approval rating; and yet a quarter of those who supported Bloomberg’s performance voted against him regardless.
Nevertheless, you don’t get bonus points for winning an election by a landslide – it’s winner-take-all in the USA, and Mike Bloomberg won.

Now, it’s very difficult to draw parallels between a city with 8 million residents and a city with 600,000 residents.
New York’s mayor rules over Manhattan and all the diverse outer boroughs, with all the complexity that entails. Boston’s mayor need not worry about nearby urban centers like Cambridge, Somerville and Quincy — he’s the lord of a relatively small fiefdom.
Still, on the day after election day, it’s interesting to observe the asymmetries between Boston’s “Mayor for Life” and the once-unstoppable NYC mayor who has to be wiping the sweat from his brow as he reflects on the narrow margin by which he won yesterday.
Bloomberg’s presidential dreams seem, in retrospect, to contain the seeds of his near-downfall: the hubris, ambition, and self-absorption that turned many New Yorkers against him on election day were all wrapped up in that lengthy flirtation with higher office.
Moreover, though, if Bloomberg wants to be the Richard Daley of New York City, he’ll need to develop the kind of organization that Menino has — on a larger scale, of course — and get his tentacles into every aspect of the city. Bloomberg will have to decide that his ambitions do not exceed the mayorship of NYC, and focus on maintaining and extending his power. There’s no doubt that a stronger opponent than Thompson would have cleaned his clock. Until Bloomberg has more than money on his side, he’ll remain extremely vulnerable, especially with the city in a weakened economic state.
When the voters feel that you’re on their side, that they know you and you know them — you can maintain power essentially forever.
As The Awl’s Choire points out this morning, that isn’t the case with Michael Bloomberg and many New Yorkers:
What people were voting against, in one way or another, was about being left behind. It was about financial inequity. What every New Yorker knows is that the City ran amok with the cost of housing, while home prices increased 77% between 2002 and 2007, and while, in 2007, the median household income in New York City was still only $48,631. The skew of the top 1% of earners very nearly did the City in—before the top 1% did itself in.
Bloomberg’s biggest problem with voters, and the reason that he actually very nearly lost yesterday, to a man who could barely run a campaign, is that people believe that the rich side with the rich—and yes, even when the rich also sponsor massive charitable giving. The Bloomberg bad bargaining policies of million-dollar real estate kickbacks for corporate real estate, and the administration’s failure to reach its goals in affordable housing, rankle with the middle class for a reason: these policies create larger inequity each year.
And now, we believe that the goals of the Bloomberg third term are to restore the City to the planned outcome of his first term, before the crash—a place of ever-growing division between rich and poor. His outrageous $100-million-plus campaign only served to reinforce the impression regarding who he really represents.
It’s up to Bloomberg to convince New Yorkers differently between now and 2012.
CNBC sports business reporter Darren Rovell ought to have his photograph in the dictionary next to the word “douche.”

His thoughts on the NYC Marathon victory of American runner Meb Keflezighi were utterly vile.
When called out for his bigotry, he stuck by his guns.
Now he’s trying to backpedal as a firestorm of criticism grows on the Twitter!
Here’s what Douche Rovell had to say when Keflezighi became the first American winner of the NYC race since the early 80s:
It’s a stunning headline: American Wins Men’s NYC Marathon For First Time Since ‘82.
Unfortunately, it’s not as good as it sounds.
Meb Keflezighi, who won yesterday in New York, is technically American by virtue of him becoming a citizen in 1998, but the fact that he’s not American-born takes away from the magnitude of the achievement the headline implies.
Nationality in running counts. It’s why many identify Kenya as the land of the long distance champions.
As for the United States? Not so much.
It has been well-documented that since the mid-80’s, Americans haven’t had much success in the marathon. Many cite lack of motivation as the root of our troubles, as in our best athletes devote their lives to sports where they can make big money instead of collecting the relatively small paychecks that professional running offers. That, of course, is not the case with African runners, who see in the same winner’s check a lifetime full of riches.
Given our disappointing results, embracing Keflezighi is understandable. But Keflezighi’s country of origin is Eritrea, a small country in Africa. He is an American citizen thanks to taking a test and living in our country.
Nothing against Keflezighi, but he’s like a ringer who you hire to work a couple hours at your office so that you can win the executive softball league.
The positive sign was that some American-born runners did extremely well in yesterday’s men’s race.
If any of them stand on the top step of the podium in Central Park one day, that’s when I’ll break out my red, white and blue.
“Technically American”?
If you think that was bad, check out the version Rovell distilled down to 160 characters or less:

Just to make utterly clear how wrong this is, let’s clarify this with a little background from a Sports Illustrated story that is WELL worth reading in full.
I’ve done all my running here: junior high, high school, college, Olympics. How much more American can you get?
– Mebrahtom Keflezighi, October 2005Keflezighi, who was born in Ethiopia 30 years ago, has led a revival of U.S. elite-level distance running since graduating from UCLA in 1998. He has won two national championships in cross-country, three at 10,000 meters and two at 15,000 meters; broken a 15-year-old U.S. record in the 10,000 (by running 27:13.98, in 2001); and won that Olympic medal. “He’s not just a leader,” says U.S. marathoner Alan Culpepper. “He’s been a pioneer.”
Young runners idolize Keflezighi. In the summer of 2004 members of a high school cross-country team from Southern California were in Mammoth Lakes for a training camp and found Keflezighi’s house. He was not home, but they left a message with one of his friends: Tell Meb he’s our hero. “I’ve told him, ‘Meb, you have no idea how many people you’re inspiring,’” says Salazar.
But he confuses people too. Keflezighi immigrated to the U.S. from war-torn Eritrea at age 12 and took his first serious steps as a runner when he ran a 5:20 mile as a seventh-grader. Still, some Americans won’t credit a domestic distance-running rebirth to a man born in Africa. They whisper and blog. “Meb has my respect as a great runner, a great person and a great American,” says U.S. runner Dathan Ritzenhein, 23. “But I’m sure it’s hard for some people to differentiate between Meb and the East African runners who seem to dominate the sport.”
Says Keflezighi, “All because my name is difficult to pronounce.”
Setting aside the racial component of the story — I, for one, have a hard time believing that Rovell would have called out Keflezighi for being only “technically” American if he had been born in Western Europe — Rovell’s ignorant blog post is offensive because it implies that there is some special status to being BORN an American that a foreign-born, naturalized citizen can never attain.
In my view, this couldn’t be more wrong.
I’m going to let my friend Nils Coq au Vin, Esq. make the case for why this is utter nonsense:
You know what this is like? Telling your adopted son he’s worth less, because he didn’t come out of mommy.
I hate people who belittle the fact that someone chose to be an American. As I’ve argued before, that makes them the most American, as in there is nothing more quintessentially American than emigrating to America.
Everyone who was born here? Sorry, you just won the lottery and missed out on the real American experience.
Rovell immediately drew some blowback, with Deadspin noting: “American Who Won NYC Marathon Isn’t American Enough For Some People.”
Other people read Rovell’s obnoxious nonsense and took the case to his blog, including commenter ILRun1:
Darren, I like your blog for the most part, but you are way off base here and you show how little you actually know about American distance running. Meb moved to the U.S. when he was 12 (22 years ago), had never run a step in his life, and grew into the runner he is today because of the American distance running system. The only people who don’t consider Meb an American distance runner are racist, uneducated fools. I hope you don’t fall into that category. Meb has been featured in commercials before, he’s won a silver medal wearing a USA uniform, and while he wasn’t an American citizen until 1998, as I said earlier, he’s lived here for over two decades, he was married here, and his kids were born here.
You can generalize your statements all you want, but most people actively involved in the distance running community consider Meb an American as much as Ryan Hall. Next time, I suggest you actually do some homework in the distance running community.
To this considered criticism, Rovell responded in a huff:

Slowly, word began to spread about Rovell’s nativist commentary.
Tweets began to trickle out as people passed around the story and shared their outrage online. Calling a naturalized American citizen who came here as a boy a “ringer” is just wrong, and it didn’t take people long to see that Rovell was way, WAY off base.
For one thing, he didn’t even realize that the last American winner of the NYC Marathon, Alberto Salazar, was ALSO not native-born!
One really intelligent commentator shared the story thusly:

Americans across the nation reacted to Rovell’s insulting dismissal of a fellow countryman, one who came here as a child to flee the war-torn horrors of his native land no less — a hero of American distance running, a friend and inspiration to everyone in the American running program.
Darren Rovell was oblivious.
In fact, he’d already moved on.

Word continued to spread and the reaction to Rovell’s asinine native-born outburst gathered into a full blown internet tsunami.
That’s when the good people at CNBC, where Darren Rovell works, noticed the brewing shit storm!
Realizing that this controversy was about to taint them as well, they sent spokeshole Brian Steel (awesome name, BTW) to issue the following statement:
“Of course he is an American. We congratulate Meb Keflezighi on his victory in the NYC marathon and he should be celebrated as one of the greatest marathoners in the world and as an American citizen.”
At this point, Twitter is beginning to light on fire with all the people reading and commenting about this intolerant nonsense.
Check out the search stream: there have been 100 new comments in the time it took me to bang out this article.
The pathetic Rovell finally woke up from his candy bar haze and realized that everyone hates him now. That realization may have been helped along by a phone call from his employer, ya think?
He wrote this sad mea culpa mere moments ago:
Yesterday, I wrote an article about New York City Marathon men’s winner Meb Keflezighi. Let me be clear: Meb Keflezighi is an American and any suggestion otherwise is wrong.
The debate currently on the blogospehere is over whether or not Keflezighi should count as the first American man winner of the race even though he was not American-born.
HAH! The “debate” on the blogosphere? More like you going on with your nativist natterings while everyone else reacts in horror and disgust!
I said that Keflezighi’s win, the first by an American since 1982, wasn’t as big as it was being made out to be because there was a difference between being an American-born product and being an American citizen. Frankly I didn’t account for the fact that virtually all of Keflezighi’s running experience came as a US citizen. I never said he didn’t deserve to be called American.
All I was saying was that we should celebrate an American marathon champion who has completely been brought up through the American system.
This is where, I must admit, my critics made their best point. It turns out, Keflezighi moved to the United States in time to develop at every level in America. So Meb is in fact an American trained athlete and an American citizen and he should be celebrated as the American winner of the NYC Marathon. That makes a difference and makes him different from the “ringer” I accused him of being. Meb didn’t deserve that comparison and I apologize for that.
Darren Rovell, Dauphin of Douche, completely failed to do his research before he besmirched the Americanness of NYC Marathon champion Meb Keflezighi.
Rovell with one of his American-born heroes
Thanks to the power of the Internets, he finally came face to face with the utter bigotry of his words and was forced to beat an embarrassing retreat.
So now that we’ve thoroughly flamed Rovell, let’s take a moment to appreciate the champ – Meb Keflezighi.

Congratulations, Meb.
You did the USA proud by torching the field in a tremendous 2:09:15!
To all other naturalized citizens, I say this: Whether you were born here or became a citizen five minutes ago, I’m proud to call you my countryman.
Emigration is what makes America great. Thank you for joining in the American experiment, so let’s make like Meb and go get that American dream!

Extra Extra, read all about it!
All hell broke loose in the Washington Post newsroom on Friday!
An editor made a reporter cry! Another reporter called the editor a “cocksucker!” The editor punched the offending reporter in the face!
The editor-in-chief had to break up the fight!
This amazing bulletin was just submitted to the ROTI offices by the legendary C. Dave with the annotation, “Newsroom brawl!”
The story is beginning to spread far and wide across the interwebs, but the Washingtonian’s Capital Comment blog seems to have the most gripping account. [Crucial UPDATES from the Washington City Paper: see below.]
ROTI is here to bring you all the background you need to get a good, long belly laugh out of these dead-tree denizens clobbering each other as their industry collapses…

It all began when a staffer for the Congressional Committee on Standards of Official Conduct, a/k/a “The Ethics Committee,” put a confidential report on a public web server.
One of those darned pesky members of the public found it, and next thing you know, reports of ethics investigations into shady Reps like John Murtha, Charles Rangel and Jane Harman were splashed across the front page.
“Cyber-hacking!” the committee chairwoman redundantly cried, but in fact, this was just another case of putting your business out on the Internet and having it blow up in your face.
In the newsroom of the Washington Post, the reporters all giggled at Congress’ ineptitude.
“Let’s write a story on this blunder,” said Style editor Ned Martel.
He summoned two of his faithful lieutenants to tackle this tale – because a story like this requires two brains to dome.
Reporter #1 was the esteemed author of foreign bulletins and political puff pieces, Miguel Roig Franzia.

Here’s one of Roig-Franzia’s hard hitting pieces on the White House:
Who let the dog out?
That’s the Washington mystery du jour.
The identity of the first puppy — the one that the Washington press corps has been yelping about for months, the one President Obama has seemed to delight in dropping hints about — leaked out yesterday. This despite White House efforts to delay the news until the big debut planned for Tuesday afternoon.
The little guy is a 6-month-old Portuguese water dog given to the Obama girls as a gift by that Portuguese water dog-lovin’ senator himself, Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts. The girls named it Bo — and let it be noted that you learned that here first. Malia and Sasha chose the name, because their cousins have a cat named Bo and because first lady Michelle Obama’s father was nicknamed Diddley, a source said. (Get it? Bo . . . Diddley?)
Bo’s a handsome little guy. Well suited for formal occasions at the White House, he’s got tuxedo-black fur, with a white chest, white paws and a rakish white goatee.
You’d think that a journalist of this caliber would be good to handle this by himself, but just to take the story to the next level, he was tag-teamed with another reporter.
None other than controversial-to-the-gays Monica Hesse!

Ms. Hesse got herself in some hot water this summer when she wrote a mildly positive profile of Brian Brown, proponent of anti-gay-marriage organization NOM.
The gay blogosphere (Gayosphere?) went ballistic when they read that their mortal enemy was being described in human terms. They let her know about it, and Hesse got her feelings hurt.
Sez the Ombudsman:
The Post recently featured a story by reporter Monica Hesse that ran on the front of the Style section while she was on vacation. The day before returning, she logged on to check e-mails — and wept.
She was buried by an avalanche of messages angrily attacking her lengthy Aug. 28 profile of Brian Brown, executive director of the National Organization for Marriage (NOM), the group leading the fight against legalization of same-sex marriage.
Hesse was stunned. She had expected to hear from anti-gay-marriage conservatives who might view the story as “snide.”
Instead, she heard from liberals who support gay marriage, accusing her of writing a puff piece about someone they believe fosters prejudice and intolerance. The story was shallow and one-sided, they complained.
Scores also contacted the ombudsman. It’s “one of the biggest pieces of crap The Post has published in recent memory,” wrote District resident William Grant II. “What’s next, a piece on how a KKK leader is just ’someone next door’ and ‘really a nice person’?”
Personally, I thought the Brown piece was innocuous when compared to this piece of crap article Hesse wrote about getting married at age 26. “My Midwestern friends were all, finally, and my East Coast friends were all, have you been drinking??”
On the East Coast where I live now, at least among most of my friends, getting married is something you do after college, after grad school, after your 30th birthday, after your second solo climb of Mount Everest, after you successfully balance your checkbook for 16 months straight, after, after, after. In other words, getting married at 26 is pretty much like getting married as a fetus…
So the Midwest friends were supportive, as if they were welcoming me into their club, while the D.C., Philadelphia and Boston friends were just dubious, as if the club I wanted to join was for insane people.
Maybe that’s because your East Coast friends remember when you were supposedly a lesbian five minutes ago…I’m just saying. It might have helped to disclose that information before you waste my time with your stupid article.
P.S. Tons of East Coasters get married at 26. You’re an idiot.
Anyway.
Roig-Franzia and Hesse put their heads together and decided the best way to cover the “file-on-the-wrong-server-blunder” story was to make a charticle – a graphic-slash-story listing mistaken releases of information through American history, going back to the inadvertent release of Robert E. Lee’s battle plans for Antietam.
Their finished product was passed along to veteran Style editor Henry Allen.

Allen, a Pulitzer Prize winner, tough-as-nails Marine, and Vietnam Vet, is almost 70 and mighty pissed about the ways of the modern newspaper:
Veteran Style writers said they knew Allen wasn’t happy. He had come up in Style’s heady days, when writers could wax for a hundred inches on the wonder of plastic lawn furniture or the true meaning of the Vietnam War Memorial. No more. Working part time on contract, Allen seethed over the lost art of long-form journalism.
Here’s a sample of Allen’s work, a post-mortem reflection on an encounter with John Updike:
On Christmas Day 1960, when I was 19 and had every intention of becoming the greatest living stylist in America, I opened a present, John Updike’s “Rabbit, Run,” and saw from the first few pages that as long as he lived — and he was only nine years older than I — I would not succeed. He was a dragon who would be unslayable.
Instead, he stalked me for 35 years, breathing the cool, ego-crushing fire of a style that didn’t just evoke reality but also seemed to violate one of our most ancient taboos, the one against the making of graven images — a style that created eerie holograms with 100 percent correspondence to the material world.
And then, one morning in June 1995, I looked across a gallery at the Whitney Museum in New York and saw him, the dragon himself. Taking notes like me, staring at the Edward Hoppers with mild eyes and beaked nose familiar from dust jackets, he seemed immense, “taller far than a tall man,” as Sappho described the god Ares. To speak to him or not to speak? I remembered that he reviewed art for Barbara Epstein at the New York Review of Books. We were working colleagues for a moment, Updike and I.
I approached a slender, slightly stooped man who shrank reassuringly as I neared him.
“Aren’t you John Updike?” I asked.
“I seem to be,” he said in a low, careful tenor, the voice of a friendly dentist reminding you to floss, but a dentist who might have something going on with the receptionist.
It was a pleasant little joke on both of us.
This dude does quality work, and he does not suffer fools.
According to the Washington City Paper, a feud between Roig-Franzia and Allen had been brewing for some time, basically owing to Roig-Franzia being a weiner:
Let’s mark the start of hostilities as mid-week. That’s when, according to an informed source, Allen raised questions about a Roig-Franzia story about a woman who had undergone multiple abortions. In the back and forth, Roig-Franzia allegedly called Allen a “dick.” No punches were thrown.
Peace prevailed until Friday morning, when Style staffers convened to discuss their journalism. According to sources, Roig-Franzia at one point in the meeting reached across the table and grabbed Allen’s notepad, tearing a page from it. Allen barked, “Give me my fucking notebook.” Roig-Franzia complied, pushing it back across the table.
Henry Allen took a look at the crappy Roig-Franzia-Hesse charticle and went freakin’ ballistic…
He started ranting about the number of mistakes he had found.
Hesse at one point asked him to send the copy back to her. She got a bit teary at the verbal beatdown.
Allen, according to sources, said: “This is total crap. It’s the second worst story I have seen in Style in 43 years.”
Good God, man — what was the worst? The City Paper says it was “a mistake-ridden profile of Paul Robeson that never saw the printed page.”
With Hesse in tears (again) and the grizzled Allen on a rampage, the time was right for Roig-Franzia to roll his hyphenated self into the newsroom.
He took in the scene and said, “Oh, Henry, don’t be such a cocksucker.”
Here’s where it gets good.
According to the Washingtonian, “Allen lunged at Roig-Franzia, threw him to the newsroom floor, and started throwing punches.”
The City Paper says, “According to an eyewitness account, Roig-Franzia didn’t try to match the 5-11, 200-pound Allen punch for punch, instead opting for more of a civil-rights-movementy kind of stance.”
This all went down mere yards from the office of Editor-in-Chief Marcus Brauchli. He saw it all happen and flew to the scene to break up the fight!

This had to be a first in the relatively young tenure of Mr. Brauchli – a full out newsroom brawl that required the intervention of the editor himself!
When it was all over, the fist-throwing Marine got in trouble:
After the brawl, Brauchli called Allen into his office and closed the door. Allen’s contract is up later this month.
Few Style writers expect to see him again.
Well, Henry Allen may not have a job at the Washington Post anymore, but we love his style here at ROTI.
He’s welcome to write and edit for us anytime – no word counts will apply.
All I ask is if you must punch me, Mr. Allen, please try to avoid my beautiful kisser.
UPDATE: The invaluable Gene Weingarten has an immensely excellent and satisfying take on the fisticuffs, and nominates his personal “Worst Article Ever”.
UPDATE to tha UPDATE: Here’s a very interesting comment left at the City Paper by David Summers.
Henry Allen was my colleague for many years. He is a brilliant writer and editor (also a poet and novelist)and his place in any history of the Washington Post is secure.
I remember reading a draft of the Robeson piece, which had been upchucked by one Esther Iverem and was laced with inaccuracies and wild flights of fancy that several editors and staff writers labored on for days to try to turn into English. For our efforts, we were called racists and butchers and even “honkies” (yes, as late as 1999).
This is not to excuse Henry’s outburst, only to note that newsrooms are tense places and that Post editors take a lot of flak from arrogant and unseasoned hires. The piece the Post published today was not so bad as the Iverem article but it was garbage all the same: I can only imagine what it must have been like in rough draft.
I am grateful to CityPaper for giving us the back story. It makes what happened on Friday seem a little more understandable. I hope that Mr. Brauchli will weigh all sides of this matter before severing a connection to one of the Post’s best writers.

As I noted in an earlier post, the race for Ted Kennedy’s open Senate seat is the most compelling political drama in Massachusetts for many years.
For political junkies intent on following the campaign, there’s no better source for info than the exceptional Kennedyseat.com, where “The Senator” keeps his readers abreast of all the developments, and has even snagged hard-hitting interviews with the candidates.
Today, the site has a great post about an oft-overlooked Republican contender for the seat, who barely got his signatures in before the deadline. He only had to spend $100,000 to pull it off, but this guy has proven indefatigable in the past, hanging in there in even the most quixotic of political campaigns.
It’s Jack Errol Robinson III, a Connecticut resident and Mass. native, with an impressive private-sector record of success and a staggeringly bad record of political campaigning!
In the early months of 2000, with Senator Ted Kennedy looking forward to his first unopposed campaign for re-election in his nearly forty years in the Senate, a new Republican face emerged that, on paper, looked as if it could present a real threat.
The candidate was 38-year-old Jamaica Plain native, and Connecticut resident, Jack Errol Robinson, a wealthy business executive with degrees from Brown, Harvard Law, and the Harvard Business School who pledged to raise $5-$8 million in his quest to unseat the legendary Liberal Lion.
The Republican Party was excited, the Kennedy campaign was irritated, and the public was intrigued.
That was the high point of the campaign – and it was only the beginning of March.
Despite this auspicious beginning, Robinson’s 2000 campaign soon collapsed as myriad charges of legal and ethical wrongdoing in his past quickly surfaced.
Robinson attempted to rebut the charges against him…by releasing an all-encompassing document of every bit of wrongdoing he’d committed throughout his life.
It was called the Robinson Report, and the New York Times described it as an attempt to squelch a tidal wave of criticism that was overwhelming Robinson’s fledgling campaign:
PUT yourself in the shoes of Jack E. Robinson III.
Faster than you can say your own name, your fledgling campaign for Edward M. Kennedy’s United States Senate seat has been clobbered by embarrassing accusations that you are sure came from the senator’s camp: a rush of stories about your driving record, your legal history and, most mortifying of all, your love life.
At the news conference to announce your candidacy, you find yourself forced to declare: ”I am not a womanizer. I am not a groper.”
[...]
Mr. Robinson, a 39-year-old businessman, sixth-generation Republican and first-time candidate, has already posted ”The Robinson Report” on his campaign Web site. Perhaps the most notable effort at a pre-emptive political strike of the Internet era, it lists and explains every incident in his life that he thought might be fodder for attacks.
[...]
But the reasons for Mr. Robinson’s frustration and anger just keep growing. Amid the rush of accusations, he was unceremoniously disowned this week by the Republican governor of Massachusetts, Paul Cellucci, and the State Republican Party, a rejection that Mr. Robinson called ”unheralded in American history” and a ”typical Beacon Hill back room double-cross.”
And almost every day, local papers have carried a new source of embarrassment, leading some to comment that Senator Kennedy may finally have a rival with a past as problematic as his own.
On Tuesday, it was an unidentified woman’s account in The Boston Globe that Mr. Robinson had subjected her to unwanted advances after a heavy-drinking dinner date, including French kisses that led her and her friends to refer to him as ”Jack the Tongue.” Mr. Robinson denies the accusation.
Now, while there are many web pages making reference to the Robinson Report, the site that originally hosted it has long since gone defunct.
The esteemed author of The Kennedy Seat lamented that it wasn’t available and said he would love to get his hands on it.
Well, political junkies and schadenfreude aficionados, ROTI has good news for you:
Behold, The Robinson Report!
Nothing is ever truly deleted from the Internet; with some devoted searching and the help of the Wayback Machine at archive.org, I tracked this sucker down.
It’s a truly amazing document that purports to explain how Robinson (among other things):
- got popped for drunk driving near Fenway Park;
- was found guilty in federal court for plagiarizing a book about Pan-Am Airlines;
- had a restraining order taken out against him by an ex jump off;
- got arrested for failing to pay a speeding ticket;
- bombed out of THREE attempts at the bar exam;
- and, best of all, got busted with a deadly weapon in his pocket…
A ninja’s throwing star!

I was taken to the Boston Police station. I remember telling the officer in charge that I didn’t believe I was under the influence. He asked me to take a Breathalyzer test and I consented.
However, as the officer was checking my clothing, he found in my coat pocket what turned out to be some kind of martial arts implement. Neither he nor I knew what it was and hadn’t seen it before. We actually got a slight chuckle out of it, at least until he checked around and found out that it is against the law to have such a thing. He was then required to charge me with possession of a dangerous weapon, even though it was clear that I had no idea what it was. [I can only surmise that it must have been placed in my jacket pocket, perhaps not even on purpose, while it was hanging in the restaurant where I was having dinner – probably by its original owner].
Yeah, right Robinson. That’s exactly what a ninja would expect us to believe!
Back in 2000, the website Online Opinion deftly summed up the impact of this one-of-a-kind confession:
What has made Robinson put forward such unusual document? According to his own publicity machine this openness is part of “a John McCain-style campaign”.
Unfortunately for Robinson the similarity to McCain will likely be that he will attract a great deal of attention but ultimately be unsuccessful. It is true that in the presidential primaries a greater degree of openness was seen with the candidates by talking about personal experiences or disclosing health records. But the Robinson Report is in a league of its own. In most of the examples he claims he did no wrong, so is it supposed to be an exhaustive list of every potential scandal that he could face?
Furthermore as the above examples show, his accounts do not give him an air of integrity, but rather make him look foolish. Now that he has opened up his personal life as an issue, how far should this line of inquiry go? To put it bluntly Robinson’s move has merely led to his portrayal as someone who seriously lacks judgment.
The 2000 campaign against Kennedy went so dreadfully, it became a total farce.
The Senator from Kennedyseat.com put together this riotous recap:
Over the next two months, Robinson hired one campaign staffer, who later quit, failed to substantiate claims that he was related to baseball icon Jackie Robinson, and travelled alone to all 351 towns in his “burgundy Cadillac Deville” often stopping for less than five minutes and wandering towns looking for someone to talk to.
From the time he began is campaign in March through the end of August, Robinson had raised just $154K, far short of his $5-8 million goal. He moved his campaign headquarters to “cyberspace,” in an effort to “rewrite the rules for campaigning in a new-age economy.” Said Robinson, “we are running a guerilla campaign, kind of like the colonial militia against the Redcoats.” Yes, kind of like that.
In the end, Robinson turned in an election day performance so dismal, Frank Phillips dubbed it “the lowest ebb of US Senate races in Massachusetts since voters began directly electing lawmakers in 1918.”
Robinson polled just 13% of the vote, getting fewer votes than there were registered Republicans in Massachusetts.
You’d think a defeat like that would crush a person’s political dreams, but you would be underestimating the legendary Jack E. Robinson!
He mounted another campaign in 2006, this time trying to take down 6th District incumbent Stephen Lynch.
His political attacks on Lynch included the pressing campaign issue of the incumbent’s use of naughty swear words!
“Stephen Lynch – The R-Rated Candidate?” cried Robinson’s now-defunct (but archived) website.
These stirring calls to the ballot box resulted in another thorough butt-whooping, as Lynch defeated Robinson by 78% to 22%.

Now, the unstoppable Jack E. Robinson is back for more.
The Boston Herald reported on his progress towards the GOP nomination:
Scandal-magnet Republican Jack E. Robinson is making a last-minute bid for the U.S. Senate, filing 10,900 signatures with the Duxbury town clerk just before the Tuesday deadline, according to a source close to the campaign.
Robinson, who coughed up $100,000 to collect the signatures, will challenge Wrentham state Sen. Scott Brown in the Dec. 8 GOP primary.
The winner will move on to the special election in January.
“He’s been trying to stay under the radar,” said the campaign source who asked to remain anonymous because Robinson hasn’t officially announced he is running.
The state’s Republican party shunned Robinson after a series of controversies, including failure to pay $70,000 taxes and penalties on his 49-foot yacht, Excalibur.
To win the GOP nomination, Robinson will have to beat this guy:

No easy task, to be sure. If there’s one thing the Massachusetts GOP loves, it’s a fit specimen with a good head of hair…
Well, at least Robinson’s website is a cutting-edge, politically savvy masterpiece.
Check out a screenshot:

Good luck, Jack E. Robinson.
You’re gonna need it.

Gaze upon the stately manse of Teresa Giudice, Real Housewife of New Jersey.
Bravo’s Real Housewives “franchise” is a truly wacky collection of ladies from around the nation, and it seemed impossible back in May that the Jersey girls could outdo legends like crazy NeNe from Atlanta, trampy Gretchen from Orange County, and haughty Countess de Lesseps from NYC in terms of sheer personality and outrageousness.
Yet Teresa and her partners in crime proceeded to deliver one of the most bizarre, compelling, and hilarious reality TV runs in recent memory.
Danielle was a former coke whore and snitch who had phone sex with someone called “Gucci Model!” Caroline’s son Christopher wanted to open up a chain of strip club car washes! Dina’s husband was mysteriously absent and potentially mobbed up! There was also a boring one, but 4/5 is a pretty good track record.
Teresa was arguably the best character on the whole show, with a tiny forehead, three little daughters that she relentlessly stage-mothered, a ridiculous guido husband from the “construction” industry, a fat bankroll of cash, and newly implanted fake “bubbies.”
My favorite, though, was the absurdly large house she built for herself, which she proudly declared was composed of only “granite, marble and onyx.” This nouveau riche masterpiece would have made Louis XIV feel ashamed.
Now, in a startling turn of events, the bank is foreclosing on Teresa Giudice’s mob mansion.
Let’s take a look back at the house – and the woman – that grabbed our attention last spring and made our lives more magical, forever.

The blog Scented Glossy Magazines did a great job of wrapping its arms around the spectacle that was Teresa and her ambitious plans for her mansion after the premiere:
“My whole house, it has nothing other than marble, onyx and granite.”
YES, there were many more ridiculous things said on the premiere episode of the Real Housewives of New Jersey, but Teresa’s proud statement about her bajillion dollar tacky-ass home just captured the essence of the whole show, an essence that can only be described as vulgar, tasteless, and true to every stereotype we’ve ever heard about north New Jersey.
[...]
Teresa’s husband Joe is in “construction,” and she pays a furniture bill of $120,ooo in CASH. You draw your own conclusions.
Teresa should also be given credit for the most jaw-dropping moment of the show when says she’s building The Palace of Marble, Onyx and Granite because it makes her “shkeeve” to look at other people’s houses. “I don’t want to live in someone else’s house–that’s gross.” Totally! That’s why I demand a brand new toilet every time I have to pee someplace other than my own house.
Despite all of those disparaging comments I just made about her, she is my favorite, and not just because her husband could have me whacked at any moment.

Richard Lawson was a tremendous asset to Gawker before he moved on to TV.com, and he was possibly at his best when discussing RHNJ, which was one of his last assignments before he bailed.
Here’s his amazing meditation on Teresa and her house, in his inimitable style:
Teresa. Ohhhh Teresa. You are my absolute favorite. Your wig might be pulled a little too far down your forehead and you may sweat olive oil, but I can forgive it. Teresa’s story this episode was called “Maybe and Marble.” The ‘Maybe’ part has to do with her three daughters, Limoncello, Aranciata, and Buca di Beppo. Buca is Mommy’s little vicarious cashcow superstar. She sings (I guess?) acts (sort of!) and looks like a nice bite-sized portion of veal parmigiana. Teresa likes to take all three of her daughters shopping at least three times a week, mostly because she likes her entire family to match. What her husband is going to say at “the office” when he shows up in his whimsical Reno Sweeney sailor girl costume, I do not know. But Teresa gets what Teresa wants.
After the three little ones—Shrimpscampi, Beretta, and 8 1/2, screamed and brayed and mommy payed for their little outfits (all in cash! suspicious! Ricooo!), it was time for Teresa to sew her wig to her forehead and head on over to Il Palazzo di Giudice, the marble and onyx clusterfuck of a “French chateau” that Teresa and her mysterious husband are building in some blasted corner of the elbow state. The thing is… absolute insanity. Marble refrigerator. Onyx grass out front. Granite pillowcases. There’s a fourth child, Giancarlo Giannini, who is just built entirely out of those three rocks. Teresa kisses him on the head when she sees him, then has the workmen move him into the closet. The house is supposed to be done in three weeks and ohhhh holy god aren’t you SO EXCITED to see what it looks like? The unveiling episode is going to be spectacular. Teresa will descend the staircase dressed in a gown made entirely of quartz and shreds of the Italian flag. Her mysterious husband will emerge all pixelated from the basement with three goombas dressed in suits made entirely of shark. The showbiz daughter, Mama Celeste, will be launched into the heavens by a fireworks canon. When everyone is standing around drinking room-temperature Pinot Grigio and chilled Chianti, suddenly there will be a great rumble and moan. The earth with tremble and people will fall to the ground. Then a great cracking will be heard and the house will disappear. It was too heavy! It’s fallen through the Earth and is now sitting ass-up in China somewhere.
So everyone will shuffle off in their Cadillacs and Teresa will just stand there, itching her wig line. “C’mon babe, we gotta go,” her antsy husband will say. “Just one sec,” Teresa will say dejectedly, staring at the gaping hole in the ground. After a short while there will be a whistle and a whine and then a thwump. Teresa just had to wait to catch her baby Barilla as she tumbled out of the sky.
Enough talk. Let’s see some photos of this tack-sterpiece, courtesy of Homes of the Rich!






It’s quite possibly the most hideous home I’ve ever seen.
That analysis includes the flooded out ruins in New Orleans’ Lower 9th Ward.
And now, according to Radar Online, it belongs to the bank.
Teresa Giudice has gotten herself in some financial hot water, and it looks like the New Jersey born and raised housewife could soon be losing her dream home.
DLJ Mortgage Capital Inc have filed papers with the Superior Court of New Jersey to repossess the house that Giudice owns with her husband Joe.
Michael K from Dlisted quips, “I thought that Teresa and her husband only paid with cash. I was under the impression that their gaudy house of tackiness was paid for with blood money and threats. I have to say that I’m a little disappointed, because he’s not the crime boss I thought he was. Sad midget mobster is sad.
But don’t worry, Teresa and her Planet of the Apes forehead will be fine. If she gets kicked out, she can always go live in the gorilla exhibit at the nearest zoo. I’m sure they will give her a table to flip so she’ll feel right at home.“
Maybe if you all support Teresa by clicking through to her personal website right now, and splurging like a Mafia princess with a fat wad of cash, we can save her granite, marble and onyx masterpiece.
After all, who wouldn’t want items like the “Milania Fantasy Bracelet,” “Baby Safari Print Clippies,” or, best of all, a line of T-shirts built around Joe and T’s inane sayings?



Now, run along and start buying things. SAVE CASTLE GUIDICE!
As for me, I’m saving my money to buy one of Christopher Manzo’s strip club/car wash franchises.

Hey, did you guys hear that rumor? The one making its way around the Internets?
Some people out there are saying that Fox News host Glenn Beck raped and murdered a young girl in 1990!
Not us, of course. We’re just reporting on the rumor.
But it is pretty weird how Glenn Beck hasn’t definitively denied this story. I mean…what does he have to hide, anyway? Why doesn’t he just prove these allegations false once and for all? Why hasn’t Glenn Beck issued an official response to the rumors that he’s a bloodthirsty rapacious killer?
Obviously they COULD be true…
I’m not saying they are — I’m just saying, he should prove these allegations false, is all.
And it’s just a little suspicious that he hasn’t done so.
* * *
Glenn Beck has been on our radar screen for a while.
Beck’s show has become incredibly popular, even as he outrages many and sponsors like Walmart and Best Buy refuse to advertise during his broadcast.
He’s implied that Obama is a Muslim and possibly a resident alien, and he’s outright called the President a racist.
He’s a disciple of W. Cleon Skousen, and claims that America’s creation was divinely inspired by Jesus.
He claims that a Marxist conspiracy to take over the USA must be stopped by any means necessary – by the way, this conspiracy includes the dastardly plan of net neutrality, according to Beck.
He weeps on the air as he freaks out in hysterics over the horrible state our once-great Christian nation finds itself in.
Dude’s a nutcase, and possibly a performance artist. He’s even referred to himself as a “rodeo clown.”
However, there are a lot of political commentators that fit this description; Beck is merely the most outrageous at the moment, which makes me think it’s best just to ignore him.
A legal skirmish has erupted that has now made that stance impossible.
Time for us to dive into the case of Glenn Beck vs. GlennBeckRapedAndMurderedAYoungGirlIn1990.com!

Let’s begin by discussing one of the most obnoxious things about Glenn Beck: his tendency to make outrageous accusations and then act as though the target of his allegations is guilty until proven innocent.
A classic example of this is the “If Obama was born in Hawaii, why doesn’t he prove it?!” demand. The more proof that is provided, the greater the conspiracy allegations and bar of “proof” that Beck and the birthers constantly raise. There’s no way for these people to ever be satisfied, and they relentlessly imply that Obama is an interloper without ever proving that he is one.
Another example of this technique can be seen in Beck’s interview with our only Muslim congressman, Rep. Keith Ellison of Minnesota, in which he couches a ridiculous accusation in classic “concern troll” style:
“No offense and I know Muslims, I like Muslims, I’ve been to mosques, I really don’t think Islam is a religion of evil. I think it’s being hijacked, quite frankly. With that being said, you are a Democrat. You are saying let’s cut and run. And I have to tell you, I have been nervous about this interview because what I feel like saying is, sir, prove to me that you are not working with our enemies. And I know you’re not. I’m not accusing you of being an enemy. But that’s the way I feel, and I think a lot of Americans will feel that way.”
So — that’s Glenn Beck’s steez. It’s dishonest and rubbish, but it’s working for him.
Now: enter the Internets.
We’ve all heard of internet memes, right? Stupid, nonsensical inside jokes that spread like wildfire on the interwebs?
Well, someone made one up about Glenn Beck, and he does not like it, one bit.
It was one of those things the kids are all doing these days: a mashup of Glenn Beck’s mucksmearing techniques and a joke by Gilbert Gottfried.
Gottfried once roasted Bob Saget by making up a bunch of rumors of Saget’s murderous ways, and then vociferously denying them. To wit:
Since Glenn Beck loves reporting groundless rumors and demanding proof that they are not true, the good people at Fark.com decided to go Glenn Beck style on Glenn Beck with a little inspiration from Gottfried.
Why haven’t we had an official response to the rumor that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a girl in 1990?
As this meme grew, someone added a great new definition to the Urban Dictionary:
glennbeck
v. To rape and murder someone (especially a young girl in 1990)
Eventually, this meme snowballed until someone — Issac Eiland-Hall, to be precise — set up a parody website celebrating the meme in all its glory.
This website (http://glennbeckrapedandmurderedayounggirlin1990.com) drew the attention of Glenn Beck and his lawyers, and they promptly descended with lawsuits aplenty.
Now, Issac Eiland-Hall is just a guy like you or me. He doesn’t have Glenn Beck money, or Mercury Radio Arts-funded corporate lawyers. He’s just a dude who wanted to start a website parodying Glenn Beck’s nonsense.
To be fair, there is a case to be made that the domain name that Eiland-Hall registered is defamatory of Glenn Beck.
Ars Technica queried a sympathetic lawyer who nonetheless felt the defendant was on somewhat shaky ground:
Paul Levy of Public Citizen routinely stands up for Web users who complain about (or otherwise antagonize) deep-pocketed corporate interests, but when we asked him about the site and the defamation complaints, he was happy to stay seated in his chair.
[...]
[T]he possibility of a US defamation/libel suit against the anonymous site operator is a real one. Certainly, domain names alone “can be defamatory,” Levy says, pointing out that the first iteration of the site posed the “rape and murder” claim as a statement—not as a question.
Levy says that such a statement is only actionable if 1) it’s false (and we’re quite sure it is) and 2) it was stated with actual malice. That last bit could be tricky to prove, especially in a case involving an anonymous speaker, but Levy makes clear that the site might well be on the wrong side of a very fine line.
“I don’t think ‘Ha ha it’s a joke’ at the end gets you off,” he says; if the parodic information is defamatory, it’s risky for the defendant in such cases. That’s complicated by the fact that the original domain name made the allegedly defamatory claim against Beck—and of course no one stumbling across the site in a search engine or elsewhere would see any disclaimer. In such cases, the domain name itself is a standalone piece of content; the disclaimer may help regarding the website content, but it won’t necessarily transfer a cone of protection to the domain name as well.
Beck and his legal team would have had a fighting chance if they took on Eiland-Hall in a defamation case in a US court of law.
But that’s not what they did. Instead – they appealed to an international tribunal!
They essentially accused Eiland-Hall of cybersquatting and called on the Euros to sort it out!
Are you freaking kidding me?
Glenn Beck is calling on the international community to arbitrate a First Amendment issue between American citizens?
This is the kind of thing he routinely slams the left for on the air!

Luckily for us, Issac Eiland-Hall found himself one helluva lawyer.
I’m not saying Marc Randazza is a particularly skilled legal mind, or has gathered any legal prestige; I’ll leave those kind of judgments to our wise legal readers. All I know is, this dude is hilarious.
Randazza fired a shot across the bow of Beck’s legal battleship with this letter criticizing the decision to bring the case before the World Intellectual Property Organization:
Dear Mr. Kaplan,
As you may be aware, from reading our Response in this case, there is a split of authority in the WIPO decisions as to how criticism sites should be examined…
View 1 states: “The right to criticize does not extend to registering a domain name that is identical or confusingly similar to the owner’s registered trademark or conveys an association with the mark.”
View 2 states: “Irrespective of whether the domain name as such connotes criticism, the respondent has a legitimate interest in using the trademark as part of the domain name of a criticism site if the use is fair and non-commercial.”
Naturally, View 2 is the prevailing view of American panelists and panels that apply American law to UDRP proceedings. View 1 seems to be more popular with international panelists and panels that apply European law.
Unfortunately, given that UDRP decisions regularly incorporate international legal principles, this case could be assigned to a foreign panelist or to an American panelist who applies transnational principles. I personally would find it distressing if the panel were to make a decision that completely disregards the U.S. Constitution in favor of a foreign perspective that adopts View 1.
To be candid, we found the fact that Mr. Beck filed this action at all to be most puzzling. Although, it was obvious why he did not file in a U.S. court given the law surrounding nominative fair use of trademarks as fully explained in our Brief. Naturally, a defamation claim as alluded to in Mr. Beck’s complaint would be humiliatingly doomed as well in a U.S. court.
On March 30, 2009, he said on his show:
Let me tell you something. When you can’t win with the people, you bump it up to the courts. When you can’t win with the courts, you bump it up to the international level.
Of course, we levy no critique at Mr. Beck for seeking to vindicate his perceived rights in this forum. We do not share his opinion as articulated on March 30, and we respect his creativity in seeking an alternate avenue where his claims might have a chance of success.
Unfortunately, despite the general wisdom among UDRP panelists, we find that occasionally they render decisions that make First Amendment champions cringe. We are certain that despite our disagreement with Mr. Beck’s legal position, that all parties involved hold equal reverence for the First Amendment. Therefore, I have prepared a proposed stipulation that will ensure that no matter which panelist is assigned to this case, the First Amendment will illuminate these proceedings like rays of light from the Torch of Liberty.
I hate to presume anything about anyone, but I presume that Mr. Beck will agree to this stipulation. It would be an interesting day indeed if Mr. Beck preferred to risk that a panelist would apply French law to a case between two Americans over a matter of public discourse.
In reviewing the filings thus far in the case, Rob Heverly at the blog Faculty Lounge noted that when it comes to trademark infringement, Beck really doesn’t have much of a case:
Beck (through his lawyers) argues that the domain name uses his trademark, and as such, should be canceled. Some of the filing’s arguments are logically questionable.
[...]
I cannot fathom how…the domain name www.glennbeckmurderedandrapedayounggirlin1990.com [infringes upon] Beck’s trademark, “Glenn Beck.”
Yes, the disputed domain name incorporates Beck’s mark, but it does more than that. And no one, and I think it’s probably true to the absolute here, no one would think they are going to a Glenn Beck owned/operated/approved site when they click on that link or type in that URL…So when looking at the filing, I wasn’t sure exactly where the complainant was going.
In contrast, the response does a wonderful job of making the case for a critical attack on someone who is quite capable of launching his own attacks (and of using the power of technology to do it).
Paul Beck and another lawyer Ars Technica discussed this case with described Beck’s WIPO claims as “preposterous.”
Hey, it would be interesting to see the plaintiff and defendant battle this case out on First Amendment grounds. I’d be curious to hear what our legal-minded readers have to say on the subject (hint hint, comment box awaits you).
Can a domain name be defamatory?
We might never know, because Glenn Beck doesn’t have the stones to file an actual defamation case in an American court.
Instead, he went for the international runaround with a cybersquatting claim that’s simply bogus.
What a whiny bitch.

In my mind, the funniest summation of this situation was provided in one of Marc Randazza’s legal filings:
Glenn Beck is the butt of a viral joke. He may not get the joke, but this does not make the joke likely to confuse or subject the domain name to transfer under the UDRP. Glenn Beck’s failure to understand these basic principles of law does not make the joke any less humorous, and does not make him any less of the butt. The First Amendment protects Respondent’s right to make Glenn Beck the butt, and his hypocritical attempts to squelch legitimate free speech criticism do nothing to portray himself in a more flattering light.
Because his arguments do not satisfy Section 4(a) of the Policy, his request should be denied.
Because he has attempted to silence a critic by circumventing (and thereby devaluing) the First Amendment — which he publicly (and in this proceeding) claims to love — he should be deeply ashamed.
So there you have it.
Glenn Beck: hypocritical, rumor-mongering, Constitution-disrespecting, race-baiting, international-courts-loving BUTT.
UPDATE: Marc Randazza for the win! Case dismissed!

If you’re like me and enjoyed the hell out of the late 80s-early 90s sitcom “Perfect Strangers,” a pillar of the original TGIF lineup, then you’re sure to enjoy a new interview with series star Bronson Pinchot in the Onion A/V Club.
This excellent Q&A was passed along by our organization’s invaluable C. Dave…
It’s headlined simply “Bronson Pinchot,” but it could easily have been called “Bronson Pinchot Shit Talks Everybody.”
Pinchot (born Bronson Alcott Poncharavsky, btw) has been around for a while, and played supporting roles in a ton of films that also featured huge stars…either at their zenith, on the rise, or on the way down.
He’s not afraid to dish on each and every one of those chumps, and this interview features him wielding a gossip flamethrower against half of Hollywood.
Possibly the most damning comments are those leveled against Tom Cruise, with whom Pinchot co-starred in the 1983 classic “Risky Business.”

Pinchot slams Cruise, describing him as a bizarre, midgetary douche with a very odd penchant for dissing homosexuals.
BP: We didn’t know it was going to be a big hit. We thought Tom [Cruise] was the biggest bore on the face of the Earth. He had spent some formative time with Sean Penn—we were all very young at the time, Tom was 20, I was 23. Tom had picked up this knack of calling everyone by their character names, because that would probably make your performance better, and I don’t agree with that. I think that acting is acting, and the rest of the time, you should be you, but he called us all by our character names.
He was tense and made constant, constant unrelated homophobic comments, like, “You want some ice cream, in case there are no gay people there?” I mean, his lingo was larded with the most… There was no basis for it. It was like, “It’s a nice day, I’m glad there are no gay people standing here.” Very, very strange.
Years and years later when people started to torment him with that, I used to think “God, that’s really fitting, because he tormented a lot of people as a 20-year-old.” He made such a big deal about it.
[...]
If you spent many years in the theater, and then you show up in movies, and people have on their to-do list for the day that they’re going to make a comment every third sentence, it strikes you as very strange. I just thought it was very funny that years later, that became his bugaboo. Which is a nice 1930s term I thought you’d enjoy.
AVC: Do you think he was just insecure? Or that he was young?
BP: I really don’t know. It is what it is; there’s nothing I can add to it. If someone’s 20 years old and every third line out of their mouth is anti-something specific, then draw your own conclusion. I thought it was very weird…I don’t like any kind of conversational agenda; it makes me uncomfortable. I just think it’s weird. Unless you’re with your very best friends and you’re being silly. Then you can do whatever you want.
AVC: Did you have a sense that even though Tom Cruise was boring and unpleasant, he would be exciting onscreen?
BP: Oh, no. I thought the movie would disappear. It just goes to show you, I obviously don’t have the antennae for that. I didn’t see it at all, but neither did any of the actors. All of the actors who talked about him were like, “What is this guy all about?” And you know, honestly, I never got it, and I don’t get it to this day. But it was his breakout film. He always talked about himself like he was a mega-superstar; that was weird, too.
Pinchot has kind words for Tom Hanks — he likes both Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson — and holds him up as proof that not all A-list stars are evil. Then he gets back to ripping A-listers!
After his brilliant performance in Beverly Hills Cop, Pinchot later returned to the series for an appearance in Beverly Hills Cop 3.
This time, series star Eddie Murphy was no longer on the dizzying upswing of his career, and he was depressed about it:
Beverly Hills Cop opened up a whole world. I got the television show and movies, and I would go sign autographs for one hour and get paid $25,000. I had bodyguards and police barricades, and I had that whole life from 1985 to about 1992, ’93. Eddie was going through his period at the time of doing movies that were not hits, and he was very low-spirited, low-energy. I said to him, “All anyone ever wants to know when they meet me is what you’re like.” And he said, “I bet they don’t ask that anymore.”
[...]
And I can understand it—he was just having a bad stretch. And that stretch lasted… When did Dr. Dolittle come out? I think his funk really did last until then. I don’t know what started the funk, but it lasted a chunk of time, and that was in the belly of the funk, and he was just really sad and low-energy and I basically did the scene without him there.
“In the belly of the funk.” Awesome turn of phrase!
Pinchot also has harsh words for Bette Midler. According to Pinchot, she was a total bee-yotch to director Hugh Miller on the set of The First Wives Club:
AVC: So Hugh Wilson would be the director in question?
BP: Yes, because Bette Midler was such a bitch to him. While he was directing, she would be rolling her eyes, pantomiming with her favorite actors, and she made it very difficult. And he was at his wit’s end. He was actually a very nice man, but she was very unkind to him on that movie. Am I not supposed to say these things? Because it is The Onion after all, the highest form of journalism. [Laughs.]
However, the most brutal takedown of all is that of Denzel Washington, who Pinchot basically describes as an evil person.
The set of Courage Under Fire was apparently an awful place to work, because Denzel was on a rampage:
That was a low point, because Denzel Washington was behind the incredibly cowardly bullshit of “This is my character, not me.” He was really abusive to me and everybody on that movie, and his official explanation was that his character didn’t like me, but it was a dreadful experience. I spent my salary on time with my shrink just for helping me get through it, and what that led to was the very next big movie that I did. I should have said to the producers, “You get that guy in line, or I’m out of here.” Life’s too short.
[...]
Denzel Washington cured me forever of thinking that there is any amount of money or anything that could ever, ever make it okay to be abused. The script supervisor on that movie said it’s like watching somebody kick a puppy. He was so vile. And after that, I just would never endure it again.
Now — let’s be fair here — Bronson Pinchot is no angel himself.
As this blog evocatively recalls, he groped all the shady ladies who were on “The Surreal Life” with him. Pretty gross behavior, if you ask me…
He’s a Freemason. Highly suspicious.
Then there’s this weird photo sequence I recently discovered, in which the elderly Richard Dreyfuss is sexually assaulted by Pinchot and Eric Stoltz!
Aaaaaaaaaanywho, while you try to put those thoughts and images out of your mind, we’ll close with some happy news.
I’m pleased to report that Pinchot and his PF co-star, Mark Linn-Baker, are still homies. Bronson aims at lots of stars with his shit-talk cannon, but Cousin Larry is OK by him:
I discovered my inner physical comic there, because I felt that the writing was weak. I mean, I received my training in Shakespeare, Shaw, and Beckett, and all of a sudden I’m doing this stuff, like… What the hell is this about? Who cares? And so I put all my energy into coming up with physical business, and all of a sudden I was a physical comic, and that is exactly how it Perfect Strangers happened. I’d always admired physical comics, but I didn’t think there was that much going on. The character wasn’t stupid, but you’d look at the script and say, “What is this about?” So I made my own life up, and I had a lot of fun doing that with Mark Linn-Baker, because he loved all that stuff, too.
[...]
Our curve was that we started out bickering about everything because we were being territorial, and then we realized over the course of time that we very dearly did care about each other, and that we did dearly love each other, and that was interesting. We eventually had a deep bond.
Cue the studio audience: “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!”
Further required reading/watching: The entire A/V club interview, which also features Pinchot’s comments on Quentin Tarantino, Scorsese and Janet Jones, and his story about the key to making Mischa Barton cry (spoiler: make fun of her fat ass).
Once you’re done with that, there’s a nice post from Uncoached featuring some of Pinchot’s memorable moments on film.

Hey world! Stop being so freaking mean to albinos!
These pale souls can’t catch a break.
Here in the West, they’re most often thought of as a villainous archetype, ready to be deployed whenever a sinister thriller needs a bad guy or assassin.
This trend holds true from 20th century classics to modern fiction, from comic books to films. HG Wells’ Invisible Man was a thieving albino madman bent on spreading chaos throughout the land. Hack fictionalist extraordinaire Dan Brown brought us Silas, the Opus Dei assassin. Comic book pages feature the villainous albinos Tombstone (hired gun) and Tobias Whale (mob boss). Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian features a scary-ass albino judge who is pretty much satanic.
The Busey family has built their careers playing evil albinos. Gary Busey played an albino killer in Lethal Weapon, and son Jake played the menacing albino terrorist in Contact. Shame, Buseys, shame!!
Let’s not forget the most infamous film albino of them all, the character simply named “The Albino” who guards the Pit of Despair in The Princess Bride. They didn’t even give him a name! Not only is this character as cruel as many other fictional albino villains, he also has a problem with mucus-clogged throat. Way to double down on harmful stereotypes, Rob Reiner!
Forging new stereotypes since 1987.
This might all seem like fun and games to YOU, casual albino-racist, but little do you know that albinism isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Despite what Western media has led you to believe — that being born without melanin turns you into a super-evil villain capable of turning invisible, torturing Westley without reservations and assassinating members of the Priory of Sion — people with albinism are just like you and me!
Unfortunately, African albinos have it the worst of all.
It seems that some crazy wackadoo witch doctors are going around spreading the rumor that albinos have magical powers, and encouraging believers to obtain albino body parts so they can get a little of that special sauce.
In some African lands, gangsters are exploiting this belief to make big bucks – and killing albinos to do it.
This information was passed along by the lovely and intelligent LA Nicholson, and it absolutely popped my dome.
A story from the Economist (via Textually.org) tells the horrifying tale.
Brace yourself, this is frightening stuff.
THE head of police in Tanzania’s capital, Dar es Salaam, this week handed out free mobile phones to several hundred locals with albinism. This is a melanin deficiency that renders African skin pink and vulnerable to cancer, turns hair wispy and leaves eyes pale and impaired. Each phone comes with a “hot line” to the police. Albinos text in their location if they suspect they are being tracked by gangsters determined to kill them and harvest their body parts.
According to the Tanzania Albino Society, at least 35 albinos were murdered in Tanzania last year to supply witch doctors with limbs, organs and hair for their potions. The violence of the attacks and the prejudices they reinforce, both about albinos and Africa, have prompted Tanzania’s government to act. It has appointed an albino woman as a member of parliament to champion the interests of some 200,000 albinos in the country. The albinos, for their part, have applauded the intervention as well as other measures, such as attempts to stamp out the use of the Swahili word “zeru” (meaning “ghost”) for albinos. Nonetheless, they say that efforts to convict albino-killers have been thwarted by a rotten judicial system, with witch doctors using bribery or threats of spells to escape trial.
Alas, the killing of albinos has spread outside Tanzania’s borders to Kenya, Uganda and particularly Burundi. On January 2nd an eight-year-old albino boy living in Burundi was hacked to death in front of his mother. The killers took his arms and legs. That attack followed another on a six-year-old albino girl in the same country. The killers tied up the parents, shot the girl in the head, and made off with her head and limbs.
Investigators say the body parts of a single murdered albino sell for over $1,000, with the skin and flesh dried out and set into amulets and the bones ground down into a powder. Artisanal miners in the gold and diamond fields directly south of Lake Victoria are the main buyers. Some sprinkle albino powder on the walls of their narrow pits, hoping for glitter. Uneducated and desperate to strike riches, they are taken in by witch doctor’s stories of the wealth-giving properties of the potions.

The Tanzanian government is attempting to battle these stereotypes and jail those who attempt to murderously profit off the witch doctors’ backwards beliefs.
As The Independent reports, however, it is an uphill struggle.
Three men have been found guilty by a court in Tanzania for murdering an albino boy, in a ruling that campaigners hope will help protect the minority group from being slaughtered for their body parts. The landmark verdict is the first time anyone has been convicted of killing an albino despite more than 50 murders in the past three years.
Albinos – who suffer from a genetic defect that alters their skin and hair pigmentation – have been targeted by modern day witch doctors in East Africa who believe their body parts add potency to black magic rituals.
A string of brutal attacks in which members of the minority group have been literally hacked to pieces, with children as young as five being killed, has provoked angry criticism of the government. Tanzania, while an extremely poor country, has long enjoyed relative stability and is renowned for its spectacular national parks and Indian Ocean coastline.
The President Jakaya Kikwete has spoken out against the killers and banned witch doctors earlier this year, while police have arrested scores of suspects but Tanzania’s justice system is notoriously slow and yesterday’s conviction was the first of its kind.
The court in the north-western Shinyanga district, close to the shore of Lake Victoria, sentenced the three men to death by hanging for the murder in December last year of 14-year- old Matatizo Dunia. One of the accused was found with both of the boy’s legs when he was arrested.
There are an estimated 17,000 albinos in Tanzania and some researchers believe the genetic defect may have originated in East Africa. Today many albinos in the region suffer intense prejudice and are routinely referred to as “zerus” or invisibles.
The skin, hair, eyes and limbs of albinos can command thousands of dollars on the black magic market in Tanzania. These sums – often paid by educated, ambitious city dwellers who travel to rural witch doctors for help with business, family or sexual problems – have been sufficient for freelance killers to hunt the pale-skinned minority.
At least 53 murders have been recorded since September 2007 with the most recent killing taking place last month. While most of the attacks have taken place in the Shinyanga and Mwanza areas in the north-west, albinos are at risk all over the country and body parts have turned up in neighbouring Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo and Kenya.
The Tanzanian Albino Society (TAS) had been warning for years of the growing threat to their community but found initially that there was little official interest in the killings. The UK-based agency, Action on Disability and Development (ADD), which supports TAS, said it “applauds the efforts of the Tanzanian authorities to bring the perpetrators to justice” but called on the courts to commute the death sentences to life imprisonment on appeal.
Since last year, authorities in Tanzania, stung by an international outcry, have launched a public awareness campaign to attack the superstitious beliefs and last year the President appointed the country’s first albino MP, the 48-year-old Al-Shymaa Kway-Geer.
There have been 90 arrests so far in the huge East African nation, including four police officers, which has confirmed fears in some quarters that there is official involvement in some of the killings. There are another 15 cases going through the courts in the country.
A local BBC journalist, Vicky Ntetema, was last year forced to flee Tanzania after receiving a string of death threats following an undercover investigation into the trade in body parts.
A Canadian businessman and campaigner, Peter Ash, himself albino, said authorities must pursue the killers in every case. “This is one conviction. There are 52 other families still awaiting justice,” he said.
So, Hollywood screenwriters, comic book artists and novelists…
Next time you think “Damn, I could write an awesome evil albino part in here, I think it would be perfect for a Busey,” — think twice, Friend.
Your bigotry is no joke across the Atlantic.








