I didn’t want to be the one to post this, but nobody else around here seems willing. Let’s call it an intervention. Tim really hasn’t been himself lately. Arrogant, dictatorial, able to fly off the handle at any minute–yes, he was already all those things, but it’s been even worse in the last two days. Plus, he’s been drinking constantly, but insists he won’t consume a drop from anything other than the goblet he refers to as “My M-F-ing Chalace, M-F-ers.” The reason, we all suspect, is the recent announcement of the 2012 National Magazine Award finalists. It seems his story about Barrett Brown, the non-spokesperson for Anonymous, is a finalist in the profile category. (Tim kindly pointed out that I also had a profile in that same issue, noting something along the lines of, “if you wrote more like me, maybe you–I’m kidding, you’ll never be this good. Never!”)
Still, we were all happy for him until he started throwing phones. When someone politely pointed out a small grammatical mistake in a story he’s working on, Tim insisted the error stay, saying, “Wait, wait, how many Ellies have you been nominated for? That’s what I thought.” Later I heard him uttering, “When my fingers whisper, who are these people to change it?” Somebody–anybody–needs to take him down a notch.
