THESE STORIES ARE NOT ABOUT TRAFFIC! WE DON’T EVEN GET TRAFFIC BONUSES ANYMORE! Sure this post is tacky, I don’t care. At this very moment, I am very self aware that I’m being a tacky, angry, crazy person. I just can’t listen to another person miss the point of why it’s shitty to cover Steve’s health like we, the press, have.
Writing about a man’s health, trying to figure out if he’s dying or not by talking to third-party expert doctors, checking statistics for Whipple procedure survival rates and timelines, checking in with sources who know people who know people who have heard that he’s dying—they’re all basically indecent things to do.
I want to apologize to everyone who knows Steve, everyone who’s known anyone who’s been sick that’s been covered in the press, and my parents, who are probably ashamed I’m tracking a man’s health so rabidly at work, and raised me to be better than some journalist/vulture dickhead.
Here’s a hint: When you’re actually proud of your work, rather than just telling yourself you’re proud of it, you sleep well at night.