Way to let me down, Barnicle.
Seriously? Countless acts of blatant plagiarism and you still get to keep your job as a decorated journalist; even after being forced to resign from the Boston Globe?
Now you're a televised journalist making twice as much money to have people listen to your cruel dishonesty. And really, fabricating cancer? How shockingly uncool that article was. Terminal Illness is still taboo, you heartless fossil.
I remember reading it, thinking to myself as I almost filled with tears, the same way the less fortunate mother did when she opened a check for $10,000 dollars, sent from the family who's son had survived. Getting that warm fuzzy feeling you feel when you read a nice birthday card from your grandmother; all for it to be destroyed as quickly as my brain absorbed it. I'm a sucker.
How dare you make millions off the fabrication of falsehoods in your stories. How dare you do your fan base and our society a disservice by omitting the truth in your articles. And lastly, how dare you take credit for the comedic genius of George Carlin. Have you any unique thoughts of your own? Probably not considering you have produced countless anti-facts in the course of your literary career.
When I become a famous, well recognized, published writer, I will broadcast to the world, across the world and the world wide web, how you, Mike Barnicle, master of journalistic disguise, have disappointed me.
You can't even stand up and admit to your written thievery. Can't say 'I'm sorry, America, I have lied to you the same way all your great leaders have. You know what Barnicle? I am more of a man than you'll ever be; able to call you out without blinking, thinking and hardly proofreading. How you like me now?
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