Keep ranting your way to insolvency, moron

Just wanted to send a big fat, double-middle-finger-laced razzberry to Rupert Murdoch tonight after reading about his little tantrum that involved verbal Molotov cocktails like "kleptomanic" and "flat-earther." It's a testament to how deeply into the red the needle on my Hypocrite Meter was just buried that I'll actually resort to profanity on this blog, but here goes:

Fuck you, you festering thrice-used douchebag. You overpay and give airtime to enough sociopathic know-nothings that you, sir, have precisely fuck-all to say about either kleptomania or flat-eartherism.

Look, you old goat: If you don't get that the business model is changing, that's your problem--and the only pity is that you won't live long enough to see me laugh at you pissing away your sleaze-mongering empire while trying to boil the ocean. Granted, I didn't spend much more than a year as a member of The Fourth Estate, but it was long enough to learn that subscriptions were a pittance compared to advertising revenues. In fact, I would be surprised to learn that the consumer revenue fully covered printing and distribution costs.

If you're worried about breaking even, perhaps you should stop hiring delusional prima donnas that consider the First Amendment carte blanche to project their "fair and balanced" pornographically paranoid fantasies onto the adults trying to duct tape this f*cked country back together after the thugs and morons you lionized trashed it for eight years. Here's a novel thought: How's about pretending to be a professional rather than a neocon mafia padrone? Because, yeah, you can probably rile up the base for another year...no one's gonna expect the economy or the job market to stop sucking before then. That's a lot of discontent you can milk.

But after that...ooh, you're really rolling the bones there, jack. Because maybe--just maybe--Joe America's gonna get bored with checking under his bed for the re-education camps and death panels and floridated water supplies you've been "warning" him about. Maybe you'll get lucky and there'll be another terrorist strike on U.S. soil. Or, more likely, some teabagging nutcase's pot-shot will get past the Secret Service. Or you can fabricate/augment some juicy financial or sex scandal to keep pushing your litterbox-liner. But if you can't...what then? Doubling down on an already bull$#!+ product might not be such a good idea. I hope for its own sake that history plays out differently from the scenarios that would put more ill-gotten gelt in your bank account. But I'll save a sliver of enjoyment for your discomfiture if it does.