Clarifying The Rumor Mill: I'm Actually Dead.
Today's Daily News contained a lovely surprise: Rush and Molloy are reporting that my large-headed gimpmaster is searching for my replacement. This was news to me, of course — but, just as Jennifer found out Brad was fucking Angelina in Africa thanks to US Weekly, I've learned that Nick Denton has hired Radar's token hetero, Chris Tennant, to replace me. Seeing as I've caught on to the master plan, I expect to be bound, gagged, and shoved in a trunk any minute now.
For the three of you who might actually care, a brighter future is on my horizon. I've heard that I'm pursuing other opportunities — but those cagey assnuts have yet to tell me what those opportunities are. Do they involve food? Living wages? An actual sick day? A town car filled with cigarettes? Oooh, maybe I'm going to Condé and they'll give me a diaper-clad slave of my very own! One can only hope.
In related news, my last name is now spelled "Cohen" and Gawker Media is actually owned by Rupert Murdoch.
Update: Hello? I'm joking. It's C-O-E-N.
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