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Okay, here we go! It's inevitable that some people are just fucking assholes. They don't necessarily try to be that way, but they unknowingly are. A man I recently interviewed for an article in The NewspaperTM - which fucking employs me - is like this. The person in question is a member of The Local School BoardTM - which fucking annoys me - but the man also home-schooled his children in the past. I was writing an article on home-schooling, so I interviewed him. Naturally, he was worried that other members of The Local School BoardTM - which fucking annoys me - would read the article and think he was encouraging people to abandon the public school system. So to get him to relax, I did something journalists rarely do: I agreed to let him look over the article before I published it. Normally, that's against my ethics, but I was feeling generous. I've now learned why being generous is as stupid and pointless as a parrot buying a dildo from an elephant. GREATEST. ANALOGY. EVER. But let's move on. Yesterday, the day before my deadline, I e-mailed this soiled tampon of a man my article. I sent it to the e-mail address he gave me, which, for some retarded reason, was his wife's e-mail address. Then he wondered why he never got the article. What sort of man would give me an e-mail address when that man doesn't even check e-mail? The type of man who adds a dumpster-sized load of Ron Jeremy's semen to his cereal each morning, that's who. The next morning, which was the ever-busy deadline day, this half-eaten turd of a man called and left a frantic message, asking why he hadn't heard from me. Obviously, the reason he hadn't heard from me was because he's dumber than Ted Nugent's excrement, but I played along and returned his call. He didn't call me back until the afternoon, about four hours from deadline. I sighed and faxed him a copy of the article. At 9:30 pm, and again at 10 pm (five hours after deadline) he called me back with "a few" suggestions. I thought about "suggesting" he flush the toilet before drinking out of it each morning, but I decided to be pleasant instead. Thankfully, the newspaper was tight on space, so we held back the article for next week anyway. But that doesn't excuse the fact that this man was behaving like the clingy girlfriend I never wanted. So last night I ended up "listening" to his suggestions over the phone, or rather, daydreaming about suffocating him with a gigantic roll of plastic wrap. While pretending to write down the asinine things he wanted me to tweak in the story - which included changing quotes, for fucking Christ's sake - he complimented me on the story. He said he thought it was really good. I had never heard of a "really good" story that got enough "suggestions" to waste 20 minutes worth of cell phone minutes, but I took the compliment anyway. A compliment's a compliment, even if it's coming from someone who probably slips roofies to midgets so he can give them rimjobs while they're asleep. Anyway, the man added, "Yeah, I got some good feedback from it, so I think it'll work good." Feedback? What feedback? As it turns out, the asshole showed the article to half the damn school board, and then collected their suggestions and dumped all of them on me as well. For the first time ever in my journalism career, I was tempted to call an interviewee a "fucking cocksucker" over the phone. When a reporter is generous and kind enough to give you the privilege of looking over an article before it's published, breaking that reporter's trust and pissing all over his kindness by passing on the article to everybody and their grandmother without permission is wrong. Not only that, but it's just fucking stupid. I don't think I've ever been so pissed off in my entire life. It's the most inconsiderate and despicable thing I've seen in a long time. I thought I was in the business of writing honest and impartial articles, not taking suggestions from a load of dumbfucks who have no business offering them. But apparently, he thinks so, and also thinks it's okay to provide advance copies of my fucking articles to everybody and their mother. This man, who I now give as much respect to as the men who hunt children for sport in Bolivia, is no longer allowed to waste my time. When he calls, and he will call multiple times before the article is published next week, I won't be available. Ever. If he stops by the office, I'll kindly tell him to go fuck himself and slam the door in his face. People can dick with me as much as they want, but when they piss all over my journalistic ethics, it'll be the last piss they'll be allowed to take.
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