Nick Denton Finally Pays Us to Stop Blogging

In the spirit of delaying announcements until the Friday afternoon before a holiday when everyone's already out of town or well into their third gimlet: Prepare to have all of your fantastic expectations thoroughly undercut by dull, banal reality. Allow us to introduce myself. (Goodbye accursed first-person plural, and good riddance.)

The name is Chris Mohney, aka Gawkerist no more. Or at least anonymous no more. Chances are you have never heard of me or the dreary and pedestrian blog I've written with fair regularity for the past year and change. I'm mostly a travel writer. But recently, what I've spent more time doing than anything else is gently and chastely pressing myself against the scrubbed windows of various New York publishing houses, mewling for entry, until a pitiless, armored human resources droid escorts me to the edge of the publisher's property and chews my resume to pieces right before my eyes.

This kind of existence wears a man down. So, about a month ago, I decided to try something stupid, which, obviously, became Gawkerist. I won't bore you (without an advance check) about all the details that went into constructing this blog, but rest assured it was more deliberate than it may seem. Well, maybe slightly more deliberate. But there were twists, and turns, and drama, even a car chase and a knife fight and a series of exploding warehouses. It's all there in the roman a clef I'm currently shopping around on the back of a Cafe Press t-shirt. Are you listening, David Kuhn?

Anyway, I was never in the pay or confidence of Nick Denton or Lockhart Steele or anyone else at GM, nor was I the secret alter ego of many more well known and glamorous figures. (Sorry, AK ... Gage should sue you for defamation.) Many correctly guessed that Gawkerist was a stunt to attract attention and finagle work through nontraditional channels. What I didn't necessarily expect was that the first people to guess this (on day 2 actually) would be everyone at Gawker Media.

Fortunately for me, their acute self-knowledge was no defense against assaultive flattery by way of meticulous attention, and as a result, I'll be lashing myself to the mast of Gridskipper next week. Drop by, won't you. I may still post here occasionally, but now that I've sold out, I've lost all credibility that I earned through three weeks of intermittent labor as an anonymous nobody blogger with an extremely narrow focus. I'll just have to console myself with better tequila.