What's the deal with this "internet", am I right folks?

Hey, remember this Angelo Persichilli fellow? He’s done roughly one notable thing in his journalism career, and that was writing a column where he made up a bunch of lies, slander and unverifiable claims. Now he’s complaining that bloggers are making up a bunch of lies, slander and unverifiable claims using this crazy new “internet” gadget! Honestly, sometimes this stuff just writes itself.

Writing in his blog (!!) for the Hill Times, otherwise known as the rag that party staffers occasionally browse to see if their boss’s name was mentioned, Angelo offers a bewildered look at this thing called “inter-net”, which allows computing-machines to speak to each other through tele-phone lines. What an age we live in! What’s next, the microwaveable pizza? Anyways, Angelo has found out that occasionally people speak of Canadian politics on this inter-net, but that whenever bloggers try the delicate craft of political commentary, they inevitably devolve into petty gossip, scuttlebutt and lies – something that he wouldn’t know about, a man a mere 2 weeks away from an entire political party condemning his fraudulently-sourced attack piece published in an actual newspaper.

The irony is rich, and layered, like an onion. Please, Angelo Persichilli, ace journalist whose words get printed on actual paper and get delivered to actual humans, teach us about how the unwashed masses of unemployed cheeto-stained bloggers are ruining the written word!

First of all, a warning – the entire first half of his article reads like something the football player would hand in as his essay for a first-year media studies course at a community college. Major points he makes: the internet lets people get involved with stuff, but with this level of participation comes a threat that journalistic integrity suffers. Angelo Persichilli has blown the lid off of this emerging story! Perhaps if he acquires a time machine and travels back to 1995, before everyone and their grandchildren had figured out these basic truths about the internet, he could sweep the 1995 Pulitzer Prizes. He stretches out this main point over about 10 paragraphs, making you believe that the football player half-assed this essay about a half-hour before it was due.

“I believe that the internet should continue to be used and in the future will play a more important role.”

THANKS FOR PERMISSION TO KEEP USING THE INTERNET, I guess! Honestly, this would be where the media studies professor rolls their eyes and goes “Didn’t anyone teach these kids how to write an essay before sending them to college?”

“Using the new medium might be fun for individuals who have nothing to lose if they make mistakes.”

You’re right! It is entirely fun for us wacky bloggers to use this “new” (i.e., “about 20 years old”) medium of the internet to commit wacky slander and lies, things that you, a respected vanguard of the written word and of journalistic ethics, would never do.

[Source: Hill Times]

[The Globe&Fail making fun of Persichilli, which is a bad sign]

Honestly Angelo, I give your plot a B+ for believability but a D for creativity

First, read the article written by this no-name, editorial-page space-filler, Angelo Persichilli, a man who makes up for his silly name with a God-given knack for juicy gossip! And by “juicy gossip”, I mean “making up shit”.

The premise of this world-exclusive scoop is that Bob Rae, Ruby Dhalla, Carolyn Bennett (who FOLLOWS MAPLERAG ON TWITTER, so, no rude things to say) and Glen Pearson met at the chic Chateau Laurier and plotted treason against their leader over cocktails. This would sure be big news, if it were true at all! Problem is, both Rae and Bennett have come out as basically saying “everything this Angelo guy says is one gigantic lie”.

Here’s Carolyn’s letter that she sent directly to the Star!

‘I was a participant in the conversation Mr. Persichilli’s [sic] cites in his Dec. 6 column. He was not. I participated in a conversation about ensuring that Michael Ignatieff becomes the next Prime Minister of Canada. The column is a fiction of the columnist’s own device. He has done himself serious damage as a political commentator.’

Yeah, good luck getting that printed, the Star letters-to-the-editor page has a pretty strict policy that filters out anything that isn’t 83-year-old hippies complaining about potholes on their suburban cul-de-sac/kids these days/the shame that Stephen Harper brings them.

Now, look back at Angelo’s column – and I’m calling him Angelo from now on, I’m not gonna be arsed to copy and paste his vowel-filled surname again – and you’ll notice that it’s oddly specific for a conversation that he wasn’t part of, and that wasn’t overheard by any reporters, and that probably didn’t exist. Angelo has concocted a thrilling narrative of direct quotes, actions, emotions and characters, given that he’s describing something that happened purely within his realm of imagination.

Here’s our own 100% true editorial response! Everything I’m about to say is as verifiable and factual as anything written in Angelo’s column:

On the morning of Sunday, December 6th, a man named Angelo needed to think of something to fill space in his important, widely-respected Toronto Star column. Angelo Persichilli was a horrible gremlin of a man, standing a mere three feet tall, living inside a dank, foul-smelling cavern within the labyrinthine basement of the Toronto Star building. As he chewed his fingernails, he came across an idea: what if a coup was being staged within the Liberal party ranks? O, what a spectacular story that would make! Angelo set to work: he looked into his desk drawer and came across four musty sweatsocks. He fashioned the socks with crude googly-eyes and smiles, and as he crouched behind his desk, he created an elaborate puppet show. He imagined that he was in a world of mystical fantasy, where four Liberal MPs had gathered to pound Jagermeister shots and stage an act of treason against their leader, setting the stage for a full-scale Liberal party revolt. Angelo cackled with glee at the spectacle, as he forced the puppets to recite dire-sounding quotes about Michael Ignatieff’s leadership qualities. He quickly transcribed the sock puppet conversation into his notepad, then sent the hastily-scribbled article to his editor. “I have a scoop! I hear Ruby Dhalla, and Bob Rae, and they were talking, oh, the things they said, I hear them all!” he croaked with glee, as he pranced merrily through the halls, sock puppets still on his hands.

CAN I HAVE ANGELO PERSICHILLI’S PULITZER IF HE DOESN’T WANT IT?