Every now and again, someone — occasionally a fan, often an oddly bitter media member — berates me for not being a “Real Journalist.” Which is, of course, accurate. I’m a writer at best and a blogger at worst, who gets the delightful privilege of being subjective when I want — an honor not bestowed upon Real Journalists.
It certainly doesn’t bother me. In part because I’ve done the Real Journalism thing, and this is way more fun. And in part because if someone wants to pay me a decent salary to write silly stuff that annoys the gatekeeping online NIMBYs of the Real Journalism world, well then I’m all for it.