The Usual Fucking Complaining

I know, but seriously, the papers are just shit. Here’s a cracker from the New York Times, “reporting” on the deaths of two bloggers from heart attacks:

To be sure, there is no official diagnosis of death by blogging, and the premature demise of two people obviously does not qualify as an epidemic. There is also no certainty that the stress of the work contributed to their deaths. But friends and family of the deceased, and fellow information workers, say those deaths have them thinking about the dangers of their work style.

Right. Possibly because the fucking New York Times rang them up and asked them whether the deaths of their friends had them thinking about the dangers of their work style. I also like the way they describe one’s death of a heart attack and the other’s being from a coronary. Because, you know, they’re not exactly the same thing or anything.

Prize of the day, though, goes to Metro. Ah, god bless London’s shitty freesheets. Thanks to the gossip page, for “informing” us that Mariah Carey has dismissed rumours she spent a fortune on doughnuts, saying, “my trainer would hunt me down.”

The source for this minor revelation? An interview with the nutter herself? Cribbed from some obscure US showbiz blog, even? No. She said it on last week’s The Friday Night Project. On Channel 4. Watched by at least, ooh, several million people.

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