[First published in the Broad Street Review 27 Aug 2013 as My brilliant journalistic career.]
Another nail in the coffin of journalism was pounded in too far, leaving its tell-tale half-moon dent in the soft yellow pine of that fragile box of putative intellect called alternative media, when Broad Street Review this month added my name to its illustrious list of contributing editors. (Click here.)
Promoting me from contributor to CE would move me to a more exclusive spot in the server farm, editor Dan Rottenberg assured me. My new title also confers certain other fringe benefits, such as free rides on buses and subways when I turn 65, um, a generation hence.
When I asked what my duties as CE would be, as opposed to my previous work in what we may now refer to as BCE, Dan told me to write well and to know what I’m talking about.
“But I’ve already tried that,” I said.
“Try harder,” he replied.
“But it’s already so hard being a journalist,” I said.
“You’re not a journalist,” he said. “Journalists meet deadlines.”
“OK, never mind,” I said. “Wow, so much to learn.” I think I really did say Wow.