Sadly, breaking news doesn’t surprises me much anymore. It is immediately what it is. I was in a seventeenth floor corner office overlooking Times Square on a conference call with a blogger from VH1’s Best Week Ever (of all media entities) when I heard the...
I tell this story a lot. Way back in 1996, just a few weeks into my Wenner Media tenure, the then-managing editor of Rolling Stone Magazine led an intern Q&A thusly: “I’m 37-years-old, I don’t live in New York, and I don’t go to rock shows...
All I knew was that Abbi signed us up for “The Fireworks” back home in Wilmington, Delaware, and that the tailgating started early so I had to catch an early train out of the city and wear nice pants. “The Fireworks,” it ends up, are an annual...
By the time I finally powered up my PC precisely 267 hours after logging off for vacation, I’d accrued 1887 emails, 19 voice mails, and 12 Facebook requests. Four hours later, I’d whittled down those various missives to a crucial total of thirty-two....
Last October, Abbi and I planned to spend our one-year anniversary in Nevis. Then, within a span twenty-four hours, I was informed that I’d be inheriting leadership of the news department, but not before I had my appendix removed. Suffice to say, we reluctantly...
