When I was brought in here, I was explicitly told that the bloodletting had come to an end. I have enormous respect for the staff here and the work they have been doing, and I am not going to preside over further layoffs.
But the real story is not how the news got it wrong—there’s been plenty of that since Monday. It’s how, mere hours later after telling a bullshit story, the news simply told a new story and expunged the previous one from its memory. Real-time accuracy isn’t always possible in journalism. But no one can call himself a journalist if he can’t acknowledge in the present what he got wrong in the past.
A man in Afghanistan once told me that a third of this planet eats with spoons and forks, and a third of the planet eats with chopsticks, and a third eats with their fingers. And they’re all just as civilized as one another.
Equally appropriate at ominous interfaith Hamptons weddings and Division II football games in Virginia horse country, Pulitzer’s designs were light zephyrs that wafted stately debauchery. They paired well with Veuve Clicquot and anything that fits into a Duke coozie.
I’ll never forget how, many years ago, after another approach had failed to give relief, Matthew said ‘Dad, I know I’m going to heaven. Why can’t I just die and end this pain?’
Megachurch pastor and Christianity franchiser extraordinaire Rick Warren, recalling his 27-year-old son Matthew, who committed suicide Friday at the family’s home.
Yes, we’re supposed to be solemn and respectful at a moment of loss such as this. But judging from the *press statement Warren’s Saddleback Church put out about his son’s suicide and longstanding depression*, and speaking as a past sufferer of existential depression, there seems to be no acknowledgment on Rick’s part that maybe, just maybe, his lifelong evangelism promoting a Christian cosmological narrative of love and everlasting life, juxtaposed with a clear inability to connect with his son on the most basic of loving levels, might have further screwed Matthew up and made self-oblivion seem an attractive choice.
As evinced in the quote above. I hear a troubled young man asking for help squaring his upbringing and dogmatic beliefs with what he feels so acutely and painfully. I’m not sure what Rick feels, but given the context in which he offered this anecdote, it seems less like a mea culpa or an introspective “what-if” than a supremely craven impulse to deny any responsibility: “Oh, you know, he was a tortured soul with a death wish, what can you do, anyway he’s in a better place now.”
This, from a man made millionaire many times over for penning a book titled “The Purpose-Driven Life.”
Rick, I’m truly sorry for your loss. I truly wonder whether *you* are.