“Pelley, along with a number of other 60 Minutes correspondents who were fired, have now accused Weiss of editorial interference and bias”
The press has finally been freed from journalism
When I first started out in the news, there was far too much reporting. Barely anyone was just making stuff up. It was as if nobody even wanted to put their thumb on the scale on behalf of the powerful. As you know, I’ve made it my life’s goal to change that. And now, at long last, the press has been freed from journalism.
I come from an opinion background. That means I have never been shackled by “facts.” The truth is, at best, inconvenient and, at worst, a threat to my bottom line. I have always believed it is the job of the news to write a rough draft of history—and then redline that draft until it fits my personal worldview.
I first left legacy media when a new, disturbing consensus emerged in the press: that I was bad at my job. So I did what any rational journalism-averse person would do. I blamed everything on woke. On cancel. On not listening enough to diverse voices, like fascists. I forged ahead to build a new media empire, one built on complete editorial independence and also millions of dollars from venture capitalists. My goal was to unmuzzle those who have been silenced, like billionaire children’s book authors, billionaire music producers, and billionaire tech executives.
But it never felt like enough. The news was still out there. Journalists were still reporting. Stories were still being vetted, researched, and—gasp—told. It all haunted me, like an unsolved case. My white whale: the integrity of the fourth estate.
Then, a miracle occurred. Venture capitalists came for legacy media. Finally, people who truly respected free speech bought free speech. And they bought me too. Not to lead in print but in televised news. I spent my entire career not preparing for this moment. It was time to root out the infection of journalism that had spread to every corner of the press.
I needed to be careful not to give up the game too early. Journalism still had its allies in the news. There were plenty of people on the inside who wanted to keep journalism alive. I needed to move slowly. So I barely did anything at first. I simply delayed and altered massive investigative segments, interfered with reporting, injected falsehoods to favor the White House’s views, and fired as many prominent producers and talent as I could. Nobody even knew I was there.
How does the news go morally bankrupt? Gradually, then suddenly. Bit by bit, I chipped away. In the end, I didn’t even have to physically hunt down the rest of the journalists on staff as I’d planned. They decided to leave on their own, according to the statement I just made up. And here we are today, another trusted institution crumbling into a beautiful pile of bootlicking cronyism. The press is finally free from journalism.
Today’s piece is also up on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. Read it again over there. Share it with a friend. Create a bigger group of friends. Organize that group into a movement. Turn your movement into a grift. Turn your grift into a leadership position at a legacy news organization. Destroy the news. These are the simple steps you need to take to become the subject of an issue of this newsletter.
The latest
When I picked up my eight-month-old daughter from daycare this past Friday, her teacher handed me a hat covered in tiny, messy orange handprints. On the brim, in extremely neat handwriting, someone (I’m guessing not my daughter) had written “#1 Dad.” The teacher looked me in the eyes and said, “She hated making this.”
This gave me two reasons not to wear the hat. The first, of course, is that when I’m wearing it, you can’t read the brim—so it just looks like a tiny orange gremlin tried to rip my head off. The second reason being my daughter hated making it.
How did they know she hated making it? Maybe she really wanted to make it, but she was tired. Or maybe she had a vision for the handprints but couldn’t make that vision a reality. Maybe she didn’t like the paint color they chose (I certainly don’t). Maybe she hated that someone else had to show off their perfect handwriting on her art project.
Or maybe she really did hate making it.
A month or so ago, I picked her up and had to sign an Incident Report. With older kids, this can happen if they bite one of their peers (understandable). My daughter, though, had done the damage to herself. She was practicing sitting and fell backwards, hitting her head. According to the Incident Report, she cried, but not for long, and was shortly back to her happy self. Nonetheless, she had created an Incident, which was Reported, and had to be Signed.
As I walked out of daycare holding my precocious little Incident-maker, I felt a deep, unsettling sadness I have never felt before. I realized that she can’t tell me what happened. Other people tell me what happened to her. An Incident Report tells me what happened to her. And though she is very good at using her facial expressions and her laughs or her cries to tell me when she is happy or uncomfortable, she has no way to tell me how she felt before. At another time, away from me and Mom.
So when her teacher said, “She hated making this,” I thought it was very funny—but I also felt that same disconcerting, stinging sadness. Back home, we laughed at the hat and how it was kind of more scary than cute. As Mom held her, I held out the hat. I asked my daughter, point-blank, “Did you hate making this?” And she pushed the hat away.
So, yes, probably.
A question for readers
What the hell am I reading?
You’re reading Here’s Something, the newsletter critics call “Too much,” “Not enough,” and “I don’t remember signing up for this.” Sometimes satire. Sometimes editorial. Sometimes (honestly, now, often) about my daughter. Always something.
I’m Eli. If you’re new to my newsletter, welcome. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. If you’ve been here for the last six years, I’m honored, grateful, and increasingly surprised. If you’re not reading this, then how am I talking to you? How would you even know? And is this a paradox or just a really stupid bit? Guess you’ll have to subscribe to find out.
Great reporting, but I miss your satire ;)
#1 dad is a funny accomplishment. you won but she was considering other contenders