Friday, June 27, 2008

Goodnight, Peepaw Will.....

As many of you (i.e. all of you) who read this blog probably already know, today is Will Leitch's last day holding the title of "William Prince of Interblogs, Editor of Deadspin, Protector of the Balls, Guardian of the Order of Nibbles, and Protector of Bissingeria". Since we at Mass Hysteria -- Deadspinners all -- are nothing if not slavishly imitative hit-whores, we (and by "we" I mean "I") thought it would be appropriate to pen our own little sendoff to our beloved emo editor.

Yeah, we're sort of the new kids on the block here, and therefore our tribute will sort of be the equivalent of us pretending to be grown-ups at the kid's table, while the KSK guys sit at the "real" table, get drunk, and start molesting each other's rectums. But we'll give it a try nonetheless.

I came to Deadspin through Defamer, Gawker's LA-themed gossip blog, which I still frequent out of a sense of adopted-homesickness. Hence, I wasn't there at the beginning beginning -- Deadspin had run "in the background", unlinked but accessible, for a couple of months prior to its "official" launch via link posts on all the Gawker sites. I stayed because Will, although it's often lost in the shuffle, is actually a gifted writer, with a light, conversational style that's both literate and easy to read. And eventually, over time, Deadspin formed into a little enclave of like-minded cretins and retards like myself, where everyone got to be one of the cool kids every once in a while. And then, like amoebae frissoning into copies of themselves (note to self: check and see if that actually means what you think it does), some of these like-minded cretins came together outside of their little Deadspin community, in order to form a more perfect destruction of the mainstream media's view of the internet. And then came the spankings. And the oral sex.

Wait, that didn't happen. What the hell was my point again? Oh yeah -- the point is, Will was always the touchstone for us, showing us how to do things the right way, and giving us spinoffs a little linky love every now and then. And now he's off to the New Yorker, where hopefully he will be able to handle the beatings and the sodomy after Roger Angell decides to defend his position of Alpha Male against the threatening newcomer.

So good luck, Will, and may Barbaro guide you on your golden path to becoming a totally obnoxious New York intellectual. And don't think for a second that you can bring your Enos Slaughter-loving Cardinals crap back to Fenway any time soon....

(sniff)

/you can bring your Cardinals-loving crap back if you want

One last word, though -- Simmons was totally wrong. This picture -- which will haunt me until the end of days -- says one, and only one thing:



"My James Spader Fan Club turned out to be far less popular than I anticipated."



Good luck, Will!

/dick joke

1 comment:

dubbschism said...

New York Magazine.