Is Mike Arrington Still a Dick?

It’s one of the eternal questions that has vexed mankind since the dawn of civilization. Socrates pondered it. Tacitus meditated upon it. Aquinas prayed over it. Locke (the real Locke, not the gimp on the Island) debated it. Rand would have pontificated about it, but she was too busy giving a “Captain of Industry” a Rusty Trombone. What is this age–old question? Is Mike Arrington a Dick?

For the first time since matter coalesced from the energy soup that followed the Big Bang, the answer to that question has changed from “yes” to “no.” For, you see, Mike Arrington has managed to transcend the bonds of mere dickdom and has risen to new heights of douchebaggery.

Now, I was originally going to state at this point that Mike had graduated from being a dick to becoming a cunt. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that that wasn’t fair—-to the cunt. See, a cunt is a wonderful thing, a useful thing. I might even go so far as to say that I love cunts. I don’t, on the other hand, love Mike Arrington. So, instead I have decided that Mike Arrington is actually a blood–flecked, tuberculitic phlegm–smear.

It’s not even the fact that Phlegminton chose to publish the stolen Twitter documents that has my spleen up. I mean, it’s Mike Arrington, did anyone think that he wouldn’t publish this crap. It’s the fact that, like all New Media Douchebags, Mike insists on trying to paint himself as some sort of hero of journalistic ethics. Even going so far as to publish his little self–fellating justification under the heading “Ethics 101.”

Really, you worthless mucosal secretion, Ethics 101? Please, oh sage, do give us your fucking wisdom. The sad thing is, I’m fairly certain that Arrington buys into his own bullshit. That, somewhere deep down, he really sees himself as some sort of bastion of journalistic integrity. Here’s a wake–up call for you, fucklenuts. Someday, a meteor is going to fall on your head, or a runaway circus elephant will trample you (because really, even as an atheist, I know that if you are as much of an utter scumbag as Mike is, someday the Universe is going to punch that karmic ticket) And on that blessed day, when you float up to the pearly gates, it won’t be the ghost of Edward R. Murrow greeting you. It’s going to be some sort of horrible rape–demon composed of the rotting corpses of William Randolph Hearst, Rush Limbaugh and Jerry Springer.

Adding insult to injury, Mucosal Mike’s justification essentially boils down to, “if we don’t publish, someone else will, so we might as well get there first.” As my friend John Welch is fond of saying, that is seventh grade logic. Just because Billy is going to hit a puppy doesn’t mean you’re morally justified in kicking a baby.

So, in order to calm down I’m going to go back to that mental image of Arrington being greeted by the Fox News Rape Demon. Enjoy the eternal sodomy you chump, at least it won’t try to shake your hand.