I spend a lot of time thinking about things I hate, because it motivates me. At the gym, especially, I turn to bloody thoughts and — I’ll be honest with you — about 75% of my time on the elliptical I spend thinking about Sam Biddle.
Sam Biddle writes for Gawker. He got famous by doing dirty things like outing Peter Thiel and lying about the environmental impact of Sean Parker’s wedding. He also ruined IAC PR Chief Justine Sacco’s career by presenting one of her tweets out of context.
BUT — Biddle is a good writer. He is one of the main reasons I am addicted to Gawker, which is honestly the shittiest mind-suck on the internet. (I read Gawker every day — I think that’s why I got a brain tumor…)
The reason I like Biddle’s writing so much is because I feel he and I are “nerd brethren.” We are both creepy internet trolls, so it’s kind of like we’re part of the same fraternal order. However, Biddle has a paunch, whereas I have very good abs:
Biddle wrote an article about me in his rag of a website after I had brain surgery. In the article, he implies that I’m making the whole thing up. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve mentioned my brain tumor and people say, “Wait… I thought that was just a joke.”
THANKS BIDDLE! How do you think that makes me feel, you asshole? I had this crippling procedure, I am going to have seizures for the rest of my life — and people think it’s a prank ’cause of you.
I’ve never met Biddle in person; I just hate him from the internet. I saw him at the Wythe Hotel once on a weekend — he looked sooooo thirsty. I didn’t talk to him, just pitied him from afar. I know a girl who went to high school with Biddle (he went to a fancy private school in D.C. — his family is rich). She says he was very horny and rapey, and that is exactly how he looked when I saw him.
One of the most annoying things about Biddle is his colonial-sounding name. When I see his face, I imagine him wearing a pilgrim hat. If “Sam Biddle” was a character in Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible,” he would be the one who is calling vociferously for persecution of the witches because they wouldn’t have sex with him. I can actually imagine him in the pilgrim hat right now.
When I first encountered Biddle, he had a partner in crime: Nitasha Tiku. She was the “Natasha” to his “Boris,” if you will. Nowadays, it seems they no longer get along — because evil people not only hate us nice folks, they hate each other, too.
One of the happiest days of my life was when Biddle got in trouble for his #GamerGate tweet. I mean, the GamerGaters — a bunch of sexist, nerdy teenage boys who were known for disrespecting girls on Reddit — were major losers. But watching Biddle get into trouble was still fun! Biddle tweeted “Let’s bring back bullying” (the joke being he is taunting the GamerGate nerds), which is funny, because Biddle is himself the epitome of a nerd. If he were a few years younger, I’d expect him to be on the GamerGaters’ side…
Gawker founder Nick Denton said the tweet lost the website millions in revenue, because GamerGaters reported the tweet to Gawker’s (presumably nerdophilic) advertisers. After that, Biddle kept a low profile for a while, and my life was so happy and calm. But he seems to have managed to weasel his way back.
I suppose it is rare to find a dude who has no friends, no life, rich parents AND is willing to work for very little pay. Biddle is exactly what Gawker is looking for in a writer! So while I don’t know the details, it’s no surprise Biddle has wormed his way back into Gawker’s good graces.
But enough — I grow weary of talking shit. I read all of Biddle’s articles, so I suppose I am part of the problem, really. I thoroughly enjoyed Biddle’s takedown of The Fat Jewish this week, even though Gawker — a site that steals news from actual media sites — calling out a comedian for stealing jokes is rife with the putrid stench of hypocrisy. But WHATEVER! I am all for plagiarism. I ain’t mad. I am an unwilling fan of both Gawker and The Fat Jew — and I like seeing them bicker even more.
If I ever meet Biddle in person, I am committed to putting all of my anger away. I would take a cue from Jesus / Lil B “The Based God,” kiss Biddle on his greasy, pimply forehead and whisper, “I forgive you…”
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