1. Turn off your Twitters and take lessons from washed-up
alcoholic journalism professors, like me.
1a. Pursue vendettas. Against local politicians, business
leaders, faculty, other journalists, schools, and—why
not—even articles of furniture. “Fucking chaise lounges are
bullshit.” There’s your first editorial.
1b. First editorial in a series of 40. Never let shit go.
1c. Swearing always proves you’re down.
2. Never pay anyone who writes for you. Better yet, dangle
the prospect of payment “at some point,” mention “exposure” often, and
still don’t pay.
3. Call someone a “racist plagiarist.” Don’t apologize.
4. Do whatever it takes to get an important person to say
“fuck you” or call you “despicable” in public.
5. Work through “think you may die” hangovers. Make your most
important calls at 9 am on these days.
6. “Caring” is for sober people who don’t take bribes.
7. Take bribes. If bribes aren’t offered, take jobs.
8. Poetry.
9. Get banned from places. Have security called.
10. Sleep with everyone. Talk about it.
11. Have your paper join the Portland Business Alliance.
12. Your writers are your enemies. So are grammar and
facts.
13. Always assume the moral high ground. Especially when
you’re wrong.
14. Be an asshole, and constantly remind your readers of it.
If possible, videotape yourself being an asshole to all election
candidates in a given cycle and post it on the web.
15. Nothing is ever funny.
15a. “Wacky” is always funny.
16c. Be inconsistent.
16c.1. Be inconsistent.
16.c.2. Don’t belabor the point.
17. Stop showing up to events. Why do you think God invented
email?
18. It’s all about you. Repeat: “It’s all about me.” There.
You’ll do just fine.