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I’m in love with Caitlin Johnstone. And journalism.

Note—I’m leaving this article here despite my recent addendum on its mirror at Medium.com. Please check it out here before proceeding.


Her tagline at Patreon is “Caitlin Johnstone is creating journalism.” And she’s creating it one excellent op-ed at a time, apparently (unbelievably enough, having lost a position at the The Inquisitr, so screw them). And op-ed, of course, is among the highest kind of journalism. Only real journalists (and Meghan McCain) are allowed to become op-ed writers. And maybe Geraldo Rivera (although I couldn’t find a single op-ed by Mr. Rivera, I know he must have written at least one).

So where does that leave us? Oh yeah, with Caitlin Johnstone. Whom I absolutely love.

In fact, Caitlin is now consistently writing the kind of pieces I would write if I could force myself to sit down, forget my debts and various family dramas, and write all the little wisdoms contained in my political heart. (One of those, btw, relates to Standing Rock. Google it [not my political heart, the term standing rock.]) Please know that I enjoy using parentheses and brackets in the same sentence. Hey, I never said language was easy. I never said it was hard, either. I say, right now, that language occupies the most recent portions of our brains, evolutionarily speaking. Isn’t that interesting?

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Caitlin Johnstone: The love of my political journalistic life.

So Caitlin has the political bases covered. That is, the political bases I would cover if…all that shit back there. So what can I write?

Well, I chased Pizzagate for a while until I found that a major source for me happened also to be an insufferable racist. I covered fake news to the extent that I thought my coverage was fake news. As part of that clueless little episode, I created an account at Gab.ai. The Pepe the Frog icon should have alerted me, but it didn’t. I will no longer be contributing to Gab.ai.

For me to create an account at Gab.ai, if it is what I think it is, is sort of like Jonathan Capehart stumbling into a KKK meeting. It will not go well.

So long as the love of my political journalistic life, Caitlin Johnstone, is alive and writing, I must find something else to write about. This took me about 35 seconds to determine: humor. Because when it comes to humor, I’m in love with Dave Barry.

Here’s the difference between politics and humor: Politics is only painfully funny when it’s funny at all. Humor is humor. I’m at least as weird as Dave Barry, and there must be a few observations he hasn’t made yet. For instance, does he remember me? I had a monthly magazine in West Chester, PA, when he wrote a weekly column for Chester County’s Daily Local News. Somehow, he managed to eke out a Pulitzer Prize before I…well, before I could. We ran into one another at a copy center in West Chester, and he pretended not to know me. Then he went to Miami, where he still doesn’t know me. He’s nothing if not consistent. And he really isn’t very consistent. Google it.

Since my debt and family dramas prevent me currently from supporting Caitlin Johnstone monetarily, and since I also have a Patreon account that I suppose is somewhat in competition with her (but not really, as politics and humor are vaguely different), I decided I’d write this post.

Thank you, Caitlin. Good luck. You’re welcome. (Please note the #humor in my tags.)

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