May 20, 2012: Emcee, Squared (Disgruntled Letter #2)

Dear Arizona Press Club,

Thank you for the swell award. It’s always nice to get together with my colleagues, once a year, to celebrate, commiserate, and catch up with one another at the Arizona Press Club Awards Dinner.

You know what wasn’t nice? David Fitzsimmons, that creepy asshole you hired to emcee the event this year. I hated him when you had him last year (or was it the year before? I’m trying desperately to forget ever having been in the same room with that horrible piece of shit); I hate him still.

And, no. I’m not angry because that turd made fun of the spelling of my first name when he announced that I’d won something. Trust me, I’ve heard that number every single day since 1971, and if it still bothered me I’d be in a padded cell by now. What I object to is the same thing I objected to last time this douchebag emceed: He was disrespectful. Also, he wasn’t funny or entertaining.

This man is an ass-hat.

But mostly, he was disrespectful. He made fun of the Navajo names and the harder-to-pronounce Hispanic names. He even made a retard joke—what kind of perverted cretin makes a retard joke in the 21stcentury?

Worse, that awful man you put up on the podium mocked the very product we were presumably there to celebrate: Journalism. Photo wins that depicted something unusual were groaned over; headlines with “funny” words in them were snickered at; subjects of the articles that won were greeting with eye-rolling. Even the judges’ descriptions of why the winners won weren’t safe (“It says here she can write anything—what a Type A loser!”).

Your friend rushed through the list of nominees, shouting them in a voice choked with sarcasm, making it clear that he thought the whole event was a colossal joke. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything more from the same heartless jack-off who made wisecracks on CNN about Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords on the day she was gunned down in a Tucson parking lot.

This time, I’m not writing just to complain. I’m writing to offer my services as a member of your board of directors next year. Please, let me work on next year’s awards banquet. Journalism is in the toilet, and the last thing journalists need is to be told we’re losers and we suck—at our annual awards banquet, no less.


Robrt Pela (whose name, according to Fitzsimmons, “is the sound a cat makes when it’s throwing up”)


8 Responses

  1. What a dick. I don’t know him, but I hate him.
    Love you, though.

  2. Bitchin’ that you won something, but what a turd. Maybe he’ll slip in something today.

  3. Perhaps we can all go to his house with burning torches and try to pull him outside and beat him him.I hope you somehow sent this blog post to someone on that board. This douche bag needs a public shaming.

  4. I’ll sign the petition!

  5. For this sarcasm and slander, he gets paid? Happy about your award; sad this lame excuse for a human being was present.

  6. Congrats to you on your award. There are all kinds out there. He just happens to be off kilter, to say the least. If you need help, should you get elected, I am available to help make you shine!

  7. glad i skipped it!

  8. I went to college with Fitz and I’m puzzled by the behavior you describe. It’s been several years since the last time I saw him, however. Maybe he was told to be funny, and sarcasm was all he could come up with. It seems out of character for him, since I know his sense of humor (or used to) and used to enjoy it immensely…

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