Anyway, Karina Longworth’s take on “the Jezebel incident” is the first time I’ve actually understood what was going on. And, as I suspected, I’m on team Moe.

Glad I could be of service. I actually had about 600 words cut from that piece for space. They mostly concerned the dynamic between Moe and Tracie; how the former seemed to want to take some of Winstead’s questions seriously but had serious difficulty actually saying what she seemed to mean; how the latter seemed totally uninterested in breaking her slut-positive comedienne persona and why, whether you like it or not, that’s well within her rights as a public figure; and how the two girls played off each other, setting up one another’s punchlines like an expert comic duo. I forgot to save the draft that contained that stuff after I pasted it into Wordpress, and I lost it when my computer crashed.

But I do have my original closing paragraph, which my editor was totally right to cut. Not only was it tangential, but cutting it off earlier allowed me to end the piece on a bit of rightous indignation wraped up in sarcasm, which is always nice.

Almost two weeks after the fact, it seems notable that Jezebel/Gawker Media have failed to come up with any sort of response that matches the incendiary power of the video itself. Though Jezebel editor Anna Holmes took a moment to shake her head condescendingly over the whole thing, there’s been an uncharacteristic (for them) sense that Gawker is rebuking Moe and Tracie with their silence; an unwillingness to boldly defend their stars at all costs is equivalent to letting them hang in the wind. The job, for nearly all members of the Gawker family, requires them to posture about themselves and provocatively take down the other whilst holding up a bayonette-affixed mirror to the culture. On the rare occasions when one of their own catches their own reflection in someone else’s weaponized looking glass, Gawker’s mission statement falls apart, their ability to set the snark agenda seems weirdly impotent.