Glamocracy dropped in my lap about a week after last year's firing and enabled me to do a lot of really cool things (original reporting, interviews, be respected for thinking smart things occasionally) at a time when I was figuring I was pretty well fucked. Maybe it staved off the fucked-ness for a year, maybe it gave me a little teeny bit of potential credibility, maybe it just helped pay the bills (oh, Lord, those bills, they await me now) but it was a good time that also has already come to an end so I had another sad moment.
Amazingly in 2009, so many publications still don't appreciate or understand how to use the web. While a few magazines are thriving online others are inexplicably choosing to slash web resources to save print resources. Still others are living on as scary zombie versions of their former selves.But there is hope. Despite the general backwardness of Condé Nast online, Vanity Fair is catching on with smart online content, the New Yorker has got some of their best writers on the blog, and Glamour distinguished itself with election coverage on Glamocracy.
And then I got up from my obligatory post-being-fired multi-hour afternoon nap and watched with no small level of delight the commenters get grossed out by the picture of the man holding the red crucifix dildo up to his face. The fact that the pictures on the redesigned Gawker pages are so small enabled that! Nick Denton's redesign that makes us all write 35-word intros and sized everything down enabled me to get away with using a picture of a gay man holding a blood-red crucifix dildo in front of his face and I sort of really loved it. Sadly, it got 75% as many page views as a stupid post about Hugh Hefner with a picture of his harem than I ran on New Years Eve (despite it being way less stupid). Oh, Interwebs. Why do you make me have to trick you into a click-through by taunting you with fake titties handled by Hugh Hefner when there are so many more interesting pictures in the world?