Daily, we check to see how many people have read our blog. Whether it's growing, ebbing, flowing... It consistently grows a little every week in its readership, which is great. The other day the number suddenly spiked, like, a bazillion percent. Like many thousands of people above the usual number. We imed the tech people at Gawker Media who run the site and asked if maybe the counter was broken. They informed us that no, it was working fine and that maybe we had been posting lately about something that had gotten people really riled up. We weren't really sure what they meant. We turn on the computer; write a few posts about Radar and how Cindy Adams is senile, check our RSS feeds, answer our hatemail, and we're done. You know, the minimal.
So then we got a couple emails from friends asking us if we were okay about this "Eric Schaeffer thing." We really had no clue why people were reacting so strongly to the "Eric Schaeffer thing" was but we deduced from these emails that posting excerpts from his loony ramblings had created this 10,000 percent increase in our fans. We were so grateful and excited that Eric Schaeffer had made it so easy for us to get so much mileage out of such chip-shot posts. We didn't really have time to put a ton of effort into them, you know, because we only ever have about twenty minutes to work on anything, but honestly, with someone like Eric Schaeffer, a long blockquote of his own writing is a better example of what's wrong with him than any kind of analysis on our part could ever be. Besides, people will still be reading Gawker long after the small, sad, scared failed screenwriters who spew hate because they can't get laid except by their fellow scary Nerve personals users either for lack of talent or gumption, have been forgotten; not that Eric Schaeffer is among this crowd, you know, we're just sayin... So we just went on about our day enjoying the nice feeling that some stranger had performed this mitzvoth on our behalf.
For a week our website kept climbing and climbing. Amazing letters were pouring in from all the women who have ever been completely skeeved by their dates with Eric Schaeffer. It was amazing. Day after day.
Thank you Eric Schaeffer. We love you. Man, how great. So we went to Eric's blog today to find out how he felt about our writing about him. Apparently he felt too hurt to contact us personally and had written on his blog to share some of his pain.
Guys, we were sooooooooooooo disappointed. We know that Eric Schaeffer is trying his hardest to be interesting, funny, smart — he certainly states often enough that he is! — but he is none of those things. He was trying his best to be snarky and mean but he was so banal and sophomoric and uncreative about it it made us embarrassed for him. We mean the biggest reviewers in the world writing for the most important papers in the world have taken their best shots at Gawker over the years, and while misguided and like all hate gossip obvious declarations of their own self hate, at least they were well written. Eric's vindictive rant was just so, seventh grade... but then we realized, he must actually be some kind of seventh grade school paper that a school put up on the internet. So these people writing, and the readers writing in were actually little seventh graders — after all, we've established that Eric is a pedophile! — and then we weren't as disappointed. We mean, we'd hoped that they'd have better taste than to go for Eric, but maybe he offered them some really good candy.
And then it made sense why Eric had written an incredibly long rant on his blog, deciding it best to express his feelings in that forum, a seventh grade news letter, rather than express whatever feelings they had directly to us, you know, like an adult. He felt more comfortable in their element.
Although we weren't as disappointed in Eric now that we realized he could purposely misinterpret us and call us out for being homophobic, anti-gay children. That actually concerned us very much.
What he did make clear by writing a super long rant on his blog was that he is obsessed with us. And since we do want to help him be happy and free, we want to give him the gift of the truth straight from our mouth. We know it will make his day, so kind of like The Make A Wish Foundation granting gifts for emotionally and mentally handicapped kids, we thought we would clear up a few things for Eric, who can't get enough of us.
To keep it short and sweet. Eric, you doth protest too much. Just too fucking much huh? Like on and on and on and on protesting? Yeah, you really really really think we're anti-gay and sophomoric blah bede blah blah. Couldn't be that your feelings were hurt because we didn't like you, could it? Doh! Na. You just want to help the public to an informed opinion about just how much you weren't into Gawker.
Eric, we're sorry we don't like you. Really we are. We wish you had the grace and dignity and respect not to lie about your millions of fans worldwide, which, to some extent, you know you did.
But the most important thing at this juncture is that we forgive you all for all of your transgressions. And as proof, here's our olive branch, Eric. Just so you know we're sincere. We want to give you a really really serious gift in hopes that we can make up and better understand each other and in doing so, we can help make your life happier and freer.
What we're about to say is the deepest. It won't ever get any deeper. So take a deep breath. Sit down. Prepare. We didn't make it up. People have been offering it up since the beginning of time in different ways but it's always the same message. And we want to share it with you in a language you can understand.
For those of you who are already down with its premise, or even more so, down with it in your heart, (meaning all our faithful readers) it won't come as any surprise and you'll get chills. It's unavoidable. It's staring into the face of God (whatever that means to you as long as it's a loving and abundant conception. And for you atheists, you're not left out of this party either, not by a long shot, it's the secret to your euphoric experience here in this lifetime even though the earthly experience is the be all and end all for you. The effects are equally as beautiful.)
It's a motherfucker. It's gonna fuck your shit up big time.
Ready? Really ready? Here it is.
We are you.
OH SHIT!!!! THAT'S RIGHT!! NO WAY!!!!
We... are... you.
In every way. All the time. Without fail.
Anything you think, feel, say about us... is how you think, feel and speak about yourself. I know it's a little confusing so let us break it down and make it reeeeeeeeeeeeally simple.
If you were to say, something like, oh I don't know, "Gawker is anti-gay" What you're really saying is, "I'm anti-gay."
If you were to saying something like, "Gawker editors are small, sad, scared writers who spew hate because they can't get a job either for lack of talent or gumption" What you're really saying is "I'm a small, sad, scared writer who spews hate because I can't get a job either for lack of talent or gumption."
Ahhh yes, now you're catching on... I knew you would. Yeah, it's a bitch isn't it.