|ROCK AND A HARD PLACE: JAYSON BLAIR, AUTHOR & PARIAH.|
Today is the day to kick dead dogs. And boy, do we have a bugger of a dead one here. A rotting, stinking, corpse dragged out to the woodshed for a few more boots to the head.
So, why would we interview Jayson Blair at this point in the game, you ask? Well, cause we're nobodies. And that's how far this man has fallen that he actually thinks interviewing with us will sell books. The four of you out there who do have an interest in what Mr. Blair has to say about lying, doping, race, blah, blah, blah, you know where to buy it. Amazon. So there you go -- there's the big plug.
Now, onto the dubious task at hand: Dead dog kicking. The steel toes
are laced up, we're all hopped up on crystal meth, and we're completely
devoid of self-esteem. It is, as they say, definitely on.
This is the end...
My only friend, the end.
BT: All right, you sick fuckity fuck. Let's put this shit to bed. Everybody wants to know. Tell our readers the TRUTH: Does Katie Couric have any noticeable signs of undergoing Endotine brow-lift surgery as reported in Women's Wear Daily? We're trying to clear BT contributor's Greg Lindsay's name.
JB: I looked very carefully and I would like to make it unequivocally clear that there was absolutely no evidence, I repeat, no evidence of Katie having undergone Endotine brow-lift surgery. She wears very little makeup, has beautiful skin and from what I know about the procedure, there would be visible scars. I sat there with her for three and one half hours. I would know.
BT: Bah, what do you know? We still believe Greg. Speaking of which, do you enjoy being scolded? You seem like you get some satisfaction out of all of these people yelling at you. Out of all the interviews you've done in the past couple weeks, who was the most visibly put-off by you?
JB: No. It really does not bother me. I mean, I deserve scolding. Meredith "Well, I am certainly glad you are no longer working at The Times" Vieira, the moderator of The View did not seem to like me too much.
BT: Did your tiny stature help you avoid the fact checkers and editors at The Times? Like when they would come over to your desk to check on a story at deadline, did you just hide in a drawer or something?
JB: It did make it easier to sneak around surreptitiously and "investigate" things that I should not have been "investigating." And, frankly, yes, editors would call my desk looking for me at times and I would just lower my chair.
BT: Why did you change your name from Jason to Jayson? Was it to make yourself more black? Were the brothers giving you a hard time about just being Jason?
JB: It was in eighth grade. I have lost too many brain cells since then to answer that question with any level of honesty. To be more black, though -- probably not. There were a lot of Jasons and Jennifers when I was growing up. I probably just wanted to be different.
BT: Why didn't you kill yourself when you were outed? What would've been your ideal suicide?
JB: The answer to that question is on Page 20 of the book. I don't have an ideal form of suicide at the moment.
BT: What was the first lie you ever remember telling?
JB: When I was young and living in Houston, so it had to be in the early 80s, I stole a dollar out of the church offering plate when it was being passed around. I was confronted and taken to the minister's office with my parents and given a chance to come clean. I lied, I lied and I lied some more. Then they told me that they saw me do it and asked me to empty my pocket. I then admitted I did it.
BT: Yeah, ministers suck. When you were sticking stuff up your nose and gettin' all crazy what was the best night you had on cocaine--and don't get all mushy about how it was hellish and horrible. I mean, you worked at The Times. You probably had some good coke.
JB: I don't do drug war stories - not because there weren't some good nights (there were), but because they are (1) a trigger for me and (2) only encourage people to do stuff that ultimately harms them. There are a couple in the book, but that's about as far as I want to go.
BT: Bully! Here's a question--would you rather be a slave or a big fucking liar with no credibility, friends, or people who trust you?
JB: A big liar with no credibility, friends or people who trust me. But I ain't that yet. I wish none of this had happened.
BT: You're almost there. Would you rather burn down a house full of children with cancer or be a big fucking liar with no credibility, friends, or people who trust you?
JB: A big liar with no credibility, friends or people who trust me.
BT: See? Anyway, when Chris Matthews called you a great writer, did you get a little bit of a boner?
JB: No. But Chris, unlike many of the reviewers, had read the book. He had notes written all over it. He knew tons of details.
BT: I've been told interviewing you is like cleaning a cesspool--either way you're going to come away from it smelling like shit. Why do you think that is? Do you think some people feel by giving you any press that it's in some way supporting your actions?
JB: I think you have been told that because people cannot let go of bad metaphors. I think that no one who has allowed me on their show or interviewed me has supported my negative actions at The Times, but many have supported my efforts to come clean, help improve American journalism, to talk about anti-minority and other biases in the news media, talk about mental health, particularly in immigrant and minority communities, and to move on with my life.
BT: Do you think the media are suckers for giving you so much publicity (us included)? Are we just feeding this monster by continuing to devote precious words to you?
JB: It's hard to argue that something The New York Times devoted 14,000 words to is not newsworthy. It's hard to say mental illness is not newsworthy. It's hard to say substance abuse is not newsworthy. It's hard to say media bias is not newsworthy. It's hard to say me taking personal responsibility is not newsworthy.
BT: Rah rah, Jay-Jay! Do you find yourself that interesting anymore? I mean, you have to sell books, fine. But Christ, this contrition tour is going to take a while. And doesn't your apology kind of lose a little weight once you've said it so many times? It seems very hollow. You seem very hollow.
JB: Anymore? Do you think I ever found myself interesting?
BT: Fine. Then do you think you're overexposing yourself?
JB: What's that?
BT: Nothing. Nothing at all.