The Yang Slinger: Vol. XXXVII
You're a journalist. A coveted source says he has some amazing information—but he needs to be paid. What do you do?
Before I knew, with 100-percent certainty, that former Mets outfielder/phony financial guru Lenny (Nails) Dykstra was complete and total slime, I learned that he was complete and total slime.
It happened way back in 2003, when I was shuffling through the reporting for my first book, a biography of the 1986 New York Mets to be titled, “The Bad Guys Won!” I was a rookie author at the time, head spinning 1,000 miles per minute, trying to call every single person involved with the team and the season.
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When I say “every single person,” I mean every player, every coach, every clubhouse kid, every executive. One call after another after another. And, without fail, folks were eager to chat. The way most of those affiliated with the ‘86 Mets saw it, talking about a glorious World Series season was like bathing in the sweetest of chardonnay broths. It brought back warm memories and blissful feelings and happy pep. “I can talk about that year every day of my life,” Ed Hearn, the backup catcher, told me. “We all can.”
One of the last players I reached out to was Dykstra, who in the early-2000s was in the process of reinventing himself as a high-flying Wall Street Yoda. It was the oddest shit ever: Dykstra had been universally dismissed (even by those who tolerated him) as a special brand of vile idiot; one immortalized in my book for deliberately raising his leg and farting in front of a gaggle of priests visiting a golf clubhouse. Now, suddenly, he was channeling Lee Iacocca.
In the midst of it all, it took a while to track Lenny down, but when I did—via phone—he said he’d be happy to talk.
“Oh, great!” I replied.
“There are just a few conditions,” he said.
Here were the conditions:
Lenny Dykstra would speak for $10,000.
Lenny Dykstra would be flown from California to New York, first class—by me.
Lenny Dykstra’s five-star Manhattan hotel bill would be paid for—by me.
I was, at the time, barely 30, working at Newsday for, oh, $90,000. Which is actually irrelevant, because even were I making $100 million, I would never have paid Dykstra for his insights.
A. Lenny Dykstra is a moron.
B. I’m a journalist.
I am writing this post because of something that happened earlier this week.
As some of you know, I’m working on a new and decidedly outside-the-box project—a definitive biography of Tupac Shakur, the late rapper/actor. And, as was the case with my other book projects, I’m trying to track down as many folks as humanly possible. Tupac lived but 25 years, so if you had anything to do with the man from birth to death, odds are fairly sound I’ll at least attempt to speak with you.
Which is why I hit up a certain little-known music executive via Instagram.
He was engaged at first; told me it was cool that someone was tackling the task; said he dug the idea of legitimate Tupac Shakur book hitting shelves.
Then, after a few more back and forths, this …
And … it sucks. It really, really sucks. Because this is a man with stories and exposure and all sorts of stuff. And who would know if I gave him the $1,500? Who would even care? Let’s say he supplied me with genuinely revelatory material—wouldn’t that be worth the dough?
And what about this guy—the actor/Tupac colleague from back in February who assured me he was ready to talk as long as we could come up with an “agreement” …
Fuckity fuck, why couldn’t we come up with an “agreement”? Why wouldn’t I slip him a few dollars? Would it really be so wrong? So unethical? So sinister?
The answer …
A big yes.
“It's an absolute never-do-it, one of the fundamental no-nos of journalism,” said Chad Finn of the Boston Globe. “It's mentioned in the first section of our ‘how we gather news’ section of the Globe's ethics policy, explaining that it would ‘cast doubt on the genuineness'‘ of the sources or documents that required payment. That's common sense, right?”
Chad is correct. The Code of Ethics of the Society of Professional Journalists warns us to, “Be wary of sources offering information for favors or money; avoid bidding for news,” And there are about 100 reasons why it’s a bridge we can’t cross, including …
• Once you offer an incentive to talk, you are betting on people showing integrity and honesty while being paid. Or, put differently: Someone who has nothing to say (like, really nothing of value to say) suddenly has something to say when dollars can wind up in his pocket. If you’re offering $100 to eye witnesses of a car crash, you’re providing folks with incentive to say they were eye witnesses of a car crash—whether they were a foot away or a mile away. Back in the day my shitty high school job involved walking the hallways of the Jefferson Valley Mall, trying to sway people into taking surveys. It was an impossible task—save the rare moments we offered a $10 incentive. Then everyone was in.
• Once you offer an incentive to talk, the person you’re interviewing has something to hold over you. Or, put differently: It’s an incredibly compromised position. I’m writing a Tupac book. I pay the actor $5,000 for an hour. He knows journalists don’t normally pay—and even sensed my reluctance to initially fork over the dough. Well, once I hand him money what’s to stop him from demanding more? And more? What’s to keep from from saying/suggesting/threatening, “It’d be pretty bad for you if this gets out.”
And he’d be right: It would be pretty bad.
• Once you offer an incentive to talk, others will ask for incentives to talk. Or, put differently: Back in the 1970s and 1980s, there were certain networks and “news” shows that were known to pay guests. Once they earned the rep, everyone arrived with an extended palm. And why wouldn’t they? The moment I give a Tupac source dough is the moment word starts spreading that there’s this dude paying sources. Not only does it destroy my cred, it actually makes me (what’s the word?) broke.
• Once you offer an incentive to talk, you ruin both your neutrality and the perception of your neutrality. Or, put differently: You paid Smith $5,000 to talk. Jones talked for free. So you surely favor Smith, because you gave him all that green. Or, maybe you surely favor Jones, because he wasn’t a dick and gave you his time. Perception almost always trumps reality, and one way or another you’re going to be considered a scribe who plays favorites.
• Once you offer an incentive to talk … well, you’re cheating. You’re basically the kid who shows up for the test with answers scribbled on his hand. I mean, half the fun of this gig is the reporting itself. Digging. Probing. Seeking. Uncovering something no one else was able to track. But paying ruins that. You’re just another douche with a checkbook and access. Yawn.
So don’t pay sources.
One of my all-time favorite journalists is Jack McCallum, my former Sports Illustrated cohort and author of some absolutely brilliant books.
I called Jack for this post because, a while back, he mentioned to me that he slipped some dollars to a few sources who helped him with a basketball-related book he’s been working on. And at first I thought, “Hmm, maybe I misremembered this.” But, nope. I was right. And the beauty of Jack McCallum—a giving, big-hearted, integrity-stuffed dude—is that he’s always honest and accountable.
“First,” he said, “I want to make this clear. I would never pay anybody just to talk to me. I also would never pay a professional athlete or a college athlete.” He paused. “I’ve been doing this for 55 years, and this is the first time I’ve ever doled out anything.”
Here’s what happened: For the upcoming book, Jack found himself interviewing a handful of men who never played professional sports; who never made it big or even sort of big; who have spent their days scratching and clawing to get by. “They’re all older than me,” Jack said, “and they didn’t do great in life.” These men have been interviewed (on the subject Jack is covering) repeatedly—providing insights, memories, details with nary a penny to gain. And, truth be told, they agreed to speak with Jack, sans any conditions or reward.
“I paid them,” he said. “Not much at all. But I think it made these guys feel great. I’ve paid people to do my research, and in a way I’m researching these guys. I’ll admit, it’s shaky. And I didn’t feel completely comfortable. But I’m glad I did it.”
And maybe you’re a journalist, reading this as we speak, thinking, “Shame on Jack McCallum! Shame on this breach of journalistic ethics!” And that’s not an unfair position to hold. But … well, it is complicated.
For example, last year Sports Illustrated sent me to Las Vegas to write about the automobile crash involving then-Raiders wide receiver Henry Ruggs. And the piece wound up focusing on Tony Rodriguez, a homeless heroin addict who witnessed the collision. We met at a Starbucks, and I bought Tony a coffee. Before he left, I asked if he’d like me to get a drink for his girlfriend—who wasn’t with us. He requested an Iced Caramel Macchiato. I made the purchase.
Is that ethical? I used my money to get something for Tony Rodgriguez. Two somethings—a black coffee and an Iced Caramel Macchiato. What if he needs a ride and I give $20 for an Uber? What if he tells me he has nothing to eat, and I hand him $100 for groceries? Am I not supposed to give a hungry man (one who sat with me for two hours and exposed his soul) dough for grub? Am I supposed to ignore his lot in life as I drive off in my $50-per-day rental car en route to my room at the Hilton?
Santi Elijah Holley, author of the soon-to-be-released, “An Amerikan Family: The Shakurs and the Nation They Created,” said, “Meals and drinks are OK, even considerate.”
Rick Jervis, my longtime pal and the USA Today Pulitzer-winning reporter, added, “The most you should do is pay for dinner (if you’ve been interviewing and if the bill is not exorbitant). If a source asks for money, explain that paying for information degrades the integrity of the information and your company/you have strict rules against it.”
I’ve taken Rick’s advice, RE: reasoning with the interviewee and breaking down the Dos and Don’ts of the industry. And the problem I’ve found is—well, they don’t always give three craps. They see the hypocrisy of it all. They see, say, a CNN reporter using their words to appear in a segment via a network that netted $956.8 million in 2022. And they say/think, rightly, “This is some serious bullshit. You’re getting paid and I’m getting … nothing.” And, in those moments, I’m not sure the ethics-of-journalism defense holds much water. I mean, I believe in it. And I stand by it. But I understand the flaws.
I understand why so many want the money.
But then Chris Stone, my friend and Los Angeles Times deputy managing editor for new initiatives, said something yesterday evening that hit me: “Good journalists are skillful enough to mine information even in the most difficult cases without resorting to payment.”
That’s really the thing, isn’t it? If we’re strong at our jobs, we probably shouldn’t have to pay sources. Lenny Dykstra, for example, never spoke to me for “The Bad Guys Won!” But Mookie Wilson did. Kevin Mitchell did. Keith Hernandez and Gary Carter and Danny Heep and Rick Aguilera and Sid Fernandez did. Hell, Dykstra’s refusal only motivated me to charge harder, stronger. To say, “To hell with him …”
And while the Tupac actor guy wouldn’t budge without a payday, I’m up to about, oh, 40 actors and producers and directors who spoke to me because they believe in Shakur’s legacy and importance. Who didn’t ask for money because, perhaps, being heard is more important than some extra bucks. And I’ll likely go back to that dude in a few months and remind him that all the others spoke except for him. And that they did so because they want Tupac’s memory to live on.
And I bet he winds up chatting.
Also, to be clear, I’m not saying Jack McCallum is wrong. His empathy is, in many ways, his superpower. He wasn’t paying people off—he was showing grace.
What I am saying is, when it comes to reporting, you don’t want to put yourself in a vulnerable position that will, almost inevitably, come back to haunt you and your reputation.
You want to be authentic.
You want to be a journalist.
The Quaz Five with … Andy Phillips
Andy Phillips is a former Central Michigan football standout who—after enjoying some coffee with the Green Bay Packers—jumped into the world of writing. His new book, “Round Zero: Inside the NFL Draft,” is available everywhere.
1. So you're a former Central Michigan lineman who attended camp with the Green Bay Packers in 2015—and you were not drafted. So why a book on the NFL Draft?: Great question - easy answer. My Draft experience raised questions for me about the entire Draft process because of one phone call that I received an hour before the 1st Round in 2015. The Bears offensive line coach at the time, Dave Magazu, called me to tell me it was going to be an incredible weekend for me. I assumed that meant the Bears could draft me or at least offer me an undrafted contract, right? Wrong. They wanted nothing to do with me. From that point on, I often wondered what happened behind closed doors because I know Coach Magazu would not have wasted his time calling me if they didn’t even want to sign me. That is why I wanted to interview the four angles that make up the pre-Draft process in hopes to get some answers to the unknown.
2. You have a chapter about Tony Mandarich and his entrance into the NFL as a steroid-fueled creature who went second overall in 1989. And I wonder—as a guy who was unable to stick, do you look at guys like Tony with any resentment? Like, your treatment of him in the book was pretty sympathetic. Does he warrant it?: The reason I could treat Tony as I did in Round Zero was because I was not interviewing the guy I was competing for a roster spot against (ironically we both wore #77 in Green Bay)—I was interviewing what many considered the greatest offensive line prospect of all-time at that time. My book tried to focus, predominately, on January-April of the pre-Draft process, so Mandarich’s steroids admission and guilt was not on my plate because it wasn’t confirmed in 1989. To get to your point, though, if I lost my spot to a guy who I later found out was on steroids I would absolutely be pissed off. Talking with Tony today was refreshing because he was incredibly humble.
3. Warren Moon is a money chapter in your book—in particular, the NFL's lack of interest in him as a quarterback entering the '78 Draft. Looking back, was that 100% race? Ninety percent race? And if Moon doesn't spend six years in the CFL, are we possibly talking about the greatest QB—at least stats-wise—in NFL history?: As I said on Good Morning Football and to many other people, Moon’s chapter is the most moving. I can’t put a percentage on it, but we can certainly assume for certain scouts, GMs, and franchises that they would not even consider him at quarterback because of his race and the stereotypes that surrounded him at that time. The joy of watching Mahomes vs. Hurts in Super Bowl 57 was possible due to the likes of trailblazers like Moon who had to go through Hell, or in his case Canada, to even be taken serious in the NFL. What could he have been? Well, consider this: when Philip Rivers retired, I researched to see if a quarterback in the Super Bowl era has ever been voted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame without ever winning an MVP, being voted AP 1st Team All-Pro, or winning a Super Bowl (as the starting QB). The answer is one player: Warren Moon. To me, that was voters telling you that they know exactly what the NFL missed out on when Moon was stuck in the CFL. If we got those Moon years back, even without a ring, it’s very possible we view him in the Dan Marino stratosphere.
4. The vast majority of football writers never played the game in college or the NFL. How do your experiences impact you as a scribe? And does that give you an advantage over those who didn't play?: I don’t believe people that did not play are any less at this profession than those that did. It’s all on an individual basis and simply are you willing to work and perfect the areas that you lack. Great—I played. That certainly helps me know very specific questions or angles which to ask questions. I already know certain things rather than have to assume, ask, or guess. I even experienced a lot of these scenarios that certainly gives me an advantage. However, I am do not have a degree in journalism or a related field, so would that make me less qualified to write a book than someone who did? I don’t believe so. Have self awareness of who you are, rely on your strengths, work on your weaknesses, and maximize your opportunities.
5. You have a chapter on Brett Favre, and it's fascinating. I wrote a book on Brett Favre, and find him fascinating. My question is, with all that's come out of late, how should we feel about Brett? Can we still say, "Good guy—even though he sent dick pics to a reporter and apparently committed welfare fraud"? Or is his rep, fairly, dogmeat and we should wash our hands of him?: This is a topic I knew would certainly come up. Ironically, I have “Gunslinger” on my bookshelf (well done!). I am neither the judge or the jury and I do my best to not pretend to be either. I am not telling anyone how to feel about Brett Favre—form your own opinions as you will—but in my conversations with him he was nothing but kind. He gave me all the time in the world and frankly was exactly what I had always hoped he would be as a kid who watched him throughout his entire career. You can call that a cowardly answer if you want, but I try to judge people off my encounters with them, and if there is serious offenses against them, I let the judge and jury run it’s course before I change mine. When it comes to football and specifically his Draft story in Round Zero, it is absolutely fascinating.
[Bonus] Rank in order (favorite to least): Diet Pepsi, Dan Marino, DC superhero films, canned peas, the kid kicking your seat from behind on airplanes, the NFL overtime rules, poison ivy, Green Bay winters, John Oates, Tony Romo as an announcer, scented candles: 1. Green Bay winters (I grew up in Michigan and shockingly love the cold) 2. Dan Marino 3. Tony Romo as an announcer (seems like the popular thing to do in 2022 was to pile on Romo - not me) 4. Scented candles 5. Diet Pepsi (even better with whiskey in it) 6. NFL overtime rules 7. Canned peas (at least I have nostalgia from my childhood here) 8. DC Superhero films 9. John Oates 10. Poison Ivy 11. The kid kicking your seat from behind on airplanes.
A random old article worth revisiting …
On the night of May 7, 1993, former University of Vermont basketball star Kevin Roberson died alongside his sister Michelle when their car collided with an out-of-control driver. At the time I was a student journalist at the University of Delaware, and Roberson had been the America East Conference’s best player. Here, two days after Roberson’s passing, is a wonderful ode from Andy Gardiner of the Burlington Free Press …
This week’s college writer you should follow on Twitter …
Jackson Payne, writer/editor at The Daily Universe, BYU’s student newspaper.
So in compiling this part of the ol’ Substack, I’m routinely on the lookout for college scribes who bring it. Who seek out spark, creativity, adventure, funk. Who aren’t afraid to write with a voice. Who takes shots.
Enter: Jackson Payne, and this appreciation of the late Mike Leach.
It’s just … really fucking good. And while BYU students probably can’t say “fucking” aloud on campus, inside the Substack Land amusement park I can curse aplenty. And Payne’s writing is curse-worthy, in all the best possible ways. Here, take a gander …
One can follow Jackson on Twitter here. Bravo, kid …
Jim Murray speaks with …
A new feature to the Pearlman Journalism Substack—thanks to the warped geniuses at Chat GPT, we can sorta kinda see what would happen if Jim Murray, the late/legendary Los Angeles Times columnist, sat down with three random celebrities. This week, here’s what GPT offers from Jim’s meeting with former Jets wide receiver Johnny (Lam) Jones, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and Arnold Jackson from Diff’rent Strokes …
Jim Murray: Good afternoon, everyone. Today, we have a very diverse group of individuals with us. We have Arnold from 'Diff'rent Strokes,' Marjorie Taylor Greene, and former Jets wide receiver Johnny (Lam) Jones. Thank you for joining me today.
Arnold: What you talkin' about, Jim?
Jim Murray: I was just introducing everyone, Arnold.
Marjorie Taylor Greene: Yeah, what's with the funny accent, Arnold? Are you even from around here?
Johnny (Lam) Jones: Now, now, Marjorie, let's be respectful. Arnold's just trying to be friendly.
Jim Murray: Johnny, you had a successful career in the NFL. What was the highlight of your career?
Johnny (Lam) Jones: Well, Jim, I think the highlight of my career was when I was able to represent the United States in the 1976 Olympic Games. I was part of the US track and field team, and it was an incredible experience.
Arnold: What you talkin' about, Olympics? You were in the Olympics, Johnny? That's so cool!
Marjorie Taylor Greene: Yeah, that's cool and all, but let's get to the real issues at hand. Jim, I think we need to talk about the dangers of socialism and communism in our country.
Jim Murray: Marjorie, this isn't a political talk show. We're here to talk about sports and athletics.
Marjorie Taylor Greene: But Jim, sports and athletics are being ruined by left-wing ideologies. We need to take a stand against it.
Johnny (Lam) Jones: I understand that everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, but I don't think we should be mixing sports and politics.
Arnold: What you talkin' about, Marjorie? Sports is about teamwork and unity. It's not about politics.
Jim Murray: Arnold, that's a great point. Johnny, what advice would you give to young athletes who want to pursue a career in sports?
Johnny (Lam) Jones: I would say that the most important thing is to work hard and stay focused. There will be times when you face setbacks or obstacles, but you have to keep pushing forward.
Marjorie Taylor Greene: That's all fine and good, but we also need to make sure that our athletes are strong, conservative patriots who will fight against the left-wing agenda.
Arnold: What you talkin' about, Marjorie? Athletes are just people who love playing sports. They don't need to be conservative or liberal.
Jim Murray: Arnold, I couldn't agree more. Sports should be about bringing people together, regardless of their political beliefs. And with that, we'll have to wrap up today's discussion. Thank you all for joining me today.
Random journalism musings for the week …
Musing 1: If you read one article this week, make it, AFTER 70 YEARS OF WRITING, ELENA PONIATOWSKA HAS MORE QUESTIONS from the Washington Post’s Kevin Sieff. Just blew me away. At age 90, Poniatowska is Mexico’s greatest living writer, but walks with humility while simultaneously penning a weekly newspaper column and dropping jewels like describing her size as “no taller than a seated dog” and complaining that, when someone broke into her home two years ago, “The thief didn’t take a single book. That makes me very sad.”
Musing 2: You would think, in an enlightened world, there would never be a headline readIng, SOUTH CAROLINA GOP LAWMAKERS PROPOSE DEATH PENALTY FOR WOMEN WHO HAVE ABORTIONS. But enter South Carolina, where 21 Republican state lawmakers are backing the South Carolina Prenatal Equal Protection Act of 2023, which redefines “person” to include a fertilized egg, giving it at the point of conception equal protection under the state’s homicide laws—death penalty included. Good work from reporter Stephen Neukam of The Hill.
Musing 3: A bonkers sad/pathetic/sorta inevitable piece from Vice’s David Gilbert, headlined, AN IVERMECTIN INFLUENCER DIED. NOW HIS FOLLOWERS ARE WORRIED ABOUT THEIR OWN ‘SEVERE’ SYMPTOMS. The story follows the saga of Danny Lemoi, who for the past decade took a regular dosage of veterinary ivermectin—before dying of a common side effect of the medication.
Musing 4: So this made me laugh aloud …
Musing 5: The Washington Post’s Ben Golliver is one helluva writer, and this profile of Iowa’s Caitlin Clark (who, by the way, is electricity personified) is just wonderful. Writes Golliver: “Clark’s intensity and demonstrative nature on the court have won her plenty of fans but also some critics, who think she shoots too often and talks too much trash. Hecklers targeted her in high school, and Iowa Coach Lisa Bluder said opposing coaches have told Clark during games that she’s not as good as she thinks.”
Musing 6: Was Greg Gumbel clumsily noting that Alabama has “sidestepped a situation involving criminal activity in which Brandon Miller was associated” the greatest moment in his long career? No. Did it diminish a tragic and gruesome happenstance? Certainly. Did he fuck up? Absolutely. But I’m also willing to give the man an “oops” and move forward. I don’t talk on TV for a living, and the number of embarrassing public utterances I’ve made through the decades could fill a McDonald’s. So … shit happens.
Musing 7: Big congrats to Pablo Torre on jumping over the Dan Le Batard’s Meadowlark Media, where—according to this Variety piece—he “envisions a digital program with audio and video components that will allow him to ‘tell original stories, do a bit of journalism and figure out how to make that show a home that can fit all of the things I aspire to do creatively.’”
Musing 8: I’m sure the Ron DeSantis camp thought they were nailing Axios’ Ben Montgomery here—but the guy is 100 percent right. So … fuck it.
Musing 9: One of my closest journalism pals is the Ringer’s Mirin Fader, but in our text messages she uses emojis like your 85-year-old uncle who sits in front of the TV watching Springer re-runs and complaining about the state of microwavable popcorn. It’s a thing (By the way, her recent profile of Greg Oden was absolute money—as always. Bravo).
Musing 10: I somehow missed this, but make sure and read the essay, A WRITER’S LAMENT: THE BETTER YOU WRITE, THE MORE YOU WILL FAIL, from Stephen Marche. Money passage: “A paradox defines writing: The public sees writers mainly in their victories but their lives are spent mostly in defeat. I suppose that’s why, in the rare moments of triumph, writers always look a little out of place — posing in magazine profiles in their half-considered outfits with their last-minute hair; desperately re-upping their most positive reviews on Instagram; or, at the ceremonies for writing prizes — the Oscars for lumpy people — grinning like recently released prisoners readjusting to society. The dominant narrative at the moment is that failure leads to success. The internet loves this arc: low then high; first perseverance, then making it; all struggle redeemed; the more struggle the more redemption. I hate those stories. Don’t tell me about how it’s all going to work out. Don’t show me J.K. Rowling scribbling her first Harry Potter book in cafes, a jobless single parent dependent on welfare. Stories like this are about as useful as lottery ads are to retirement planning. Personally, I’ve always felt comforted by the realization that failure is the body of a writer’s life, and success only ever a temporary attire. But I do ask myself a question that I know a lot of writers, in many different periods, have asked: Is now a particularly lousy time to be a writer, or does it just feel that way?”
Musing 11: Every so often an athlete’s Tweet tells the whole story …
Musing 12: The not-even-slightly-surprising article of the day, by Sanford Nowlin of the San Antonio Current, explains how Ted Cruz refers to himself as a “best-selling author” by spending hundreds of thousands to purchase his own books. How does one say, “loser” inside a Cancun bar?
Musing 13: Kirk Logggins, my former Tennessean colleague and the newspaper’s longtime courthouse reporter, died yesterday at age 76. According to Brad Schmitt’s piece, Loggins, “covered Nashville's courts for The Tennessean for 26 years starting in 1976 before he retired in 2002. In that time, Loggins seemed to thrive on dramas playing out in the courthouse, journalists, lawyers and judges said, long before true-crime television shows or podcasts were popular.” RIP.
Musing 14: The new Two Writers Slinging Yang stars Jonathan Salant, the longtime political writer for the Newark Star-Ledger who was recently laid off. With his departure, the state of New Jersey has, literally, zero reporters covering Washington, D.C. It’s shameful.
Quote of the week …
“Death twitches my ear;
'Live,' he says ...
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bought a book and read two great columns today - ty for that - have a good weekend!