We love the Internet. Except when we hate it. Every week, Jordan Valinsky bottles the angst of his Millennial generation and finds something to despise about the Web.
Anderson Cooper, here I come.
Cooper is now searching for people to be “Blogger of the Day” for his syndicated sideshow, Anderson Live. I guess he needs something to amp up the stories shaken out from the back pages of Us Weekly.
As I am a human being with two working eyes, a heart with (some) love to give, and an affinity for the rich, I confess that I find Cooper’s dapper charm and looks titillating. To the 15 readers who read this crap, I really want this job, so please help me!
First let’s take a look at the job description to see if I am qualified. (Note that it’s placed under the absolutely stupidest stock art, which somehow approximates blogging to a gang ritual.)
“Do you have a blog you’re proud of?” reads the opening line of the call for bloggers. Proud of? Well, no, not if you take in consideration that my Tumblr is a series of half-assed screen shots and my WordPress hasn’t been updated in more than a year.
However, I’ve got this in my favor: I sort of do work at a blog—although I think as I typed that sentence I heard the pop! pop! sound of my bosses’ brains exploding. The Daily Dot is a newspaper, they scream into the great void of the Web.
But if it increases my chances of me slipping into that cozy photo booth with Anderson, then let us partake of the dreaded “blog” label. I’m proud of what I write…when it’s about my idols, who are—in this order of vital and cultural importance—Carly Rae Jepsen, Lindsay Lohan, and Boo. So we can brush that concern aside.
On to the second line, which asks: “Perhaps it’s a quirky video or photo blog, or a wedding, pregnancy, food, family or fashion blog?”
That would be a no, Anderson. Because all those things are the worst. You can’t afford that wedding dress, your family isn’t as cute as you think they are, and good fucking job of smashing up an avocado and spreading it over a grilled chicken breast like it’s an artisanal dish that will rival a Michelin-starred restaurant’s offerings.
The last few sentences ask me to share my website and inform me that I “may be” invited to an upcoming taping. As long as they don’t do a background check or scrape my hard drive, I think I can turn that “may be” into a “hell yes.”
Perfect, I’m really shaping up to be Anderson blogger of the day. The last item is a 1,500-character retelling of “my story.” Here goes:
Anderson! Hey, it’s me, your number one and totally normal, well-medicated fan, Jordan. Please pick me. I think I would be great at this job because not only am I decent at writing complete sentences but I’ve been working toward this for my entire journalism career.
First, I’ve been watching you since The Mole. I sometimes watch your show on CNN (when Ari Fleischer isn’t babbling), and, when I can find whatever channel it’s on in Austin, parts of Anderson Live. I am familiar with your work.
What’s even more critical is that through years of research, I have perfected an entirely accurate Cooperdar. I can tell when you are confused, annoyed, bewildered, or impishly flirty, which pretty much captures the demeanor you routinely display on Anderson Live. Especially when, for example, you realize that your producers named a contest “Pin-tober Spooktacular.” Woof.
Anderson, use me as your live feed therapist. I know you like no one else. I’ll be your inner voice writ large, and wittily verbalize your thoughts, while you can bolster your serious journalism credentials by distancing yourself from contests about Pinterest:
“Haha, let’s all watch in unison has Anderson tries to hide his vomit while he mumbles ‘Pin-tober Spooktacular’ in front of a national audience!” I will write. “Oh EWWW, he actually said that. How much does he miss being in war-torn countries right now instead of having to hear Bethenny Frankel yap about her crappy drinks?” I will blog furiously.
Oh, by the way, how about we do a video blog of us two newsbros casually working out, drops of sweat dripping from our foreheads (a towel boy follows you at Barton, right?). We can spot each other while mocking Andy Cohen.
In conclusion—pick me, Anderson. Everything will be fine and not creepy, I promise. I will blog the shit out of the show, which in return, would make it watchable and fluff up your ratings. It’s either this, or be relegated back to CNN where you’ll have to endure another holiday party with Piers Morgan.
I think I have found my true calling. Support me in my bid to live blog Cooper’s show. Tweet at @AndersonLive (of course AC reads the tweets!) with the hashtag #JordanOnAnderson. I’m counting on you. Together we can make this happen. I’ll even let you work out with us.
Photo via Hashgram
