Gawker.com will cease operations today. I asked former editors of the site to help us send it off. Thanks for reading, commenting, and tipping. Long live Gawker. —AP
I often feel guilt when I assign a story. This is partly a function of being a woman who would, if she had her way, please and comfort her entire universe of acquaintances, and partly a function of having been convinced at a relatively young age by the argument that Janet Malcolm famously made in The Journalist and the Murderer: “Every journalist who is not too stupid or full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible.”
A lie with a billion dollars behind it is stronger than the truth. Peter Thiel has shut down Gawker.com.
Wherever you go in this life, there is some jerk telling you what to do. Almost always. But not always.
Breakups have a way of robbing you of your identity, especially when you’re the one who’s being broken up with. If the union was worth joining in the first place, severing it disrupts your habits, your decision-making, your system of loving. It erases the mutations your love has engendered. You don’t even get to keep them in a jar of formaldehyde. Your best chance at preservation is art.
A cool sunset does more for a hot publication’s glory than all the sweaty days of its actual word-pushing. As night falls—and night always falls, honey—plenty of beloveds return and gather round to tamp down the grave. Some come to tap-dance because every media graveyard has sad ghouls.
The world is your oyster. By which I mean it’s under intense surveillance at all times even though that’s a giant waste of energy, money, and humanity.
At least 51 people were killed and dozens more wounded in a suicide bomb attack on a Kurdish wedding party in the southeastern Turkish city Gaziantep on Saturday night.