I've written a handful of blogs over the last year that have not seen the light of day. I can't complain: I'm the guy who wrote a blog that caused major problems for the company and had me fired. I'm the number one guy who deserves to have blogs spiked. What's more, Nate and Hubbs and Clem (our editors) have a very difficult job. Knowing what is safe for the blog vs. not safe just seems arbitrary at times. You have obvious no-gos, but you'd also be shocked by what blogs we've posted that have caused backlash.
But now, thanks to Dave's business chess prowess, I think we've been given a few more feet of leash. I went back to the pile of draft blogs I'd written that were 86'd for various reasons. There are a few that have been permanently deleted, which may be for the best. But here's one I wrote in July. The paragraph that led to its shelving is also the one I like the best.
From: June 30th
Reason for blog prevention: suicidal ideations
The Friday before the 4th of July is a day of unease for me. Four years ago today, I was fired from Barstool. No need to retell that story. But the day of my firing was the culmination of a hell week the likes of which I hadn't experienced since, believe it or not, my very FIRST weeks at Barstool (fake cancer Francis > falling in love with an SI Swimsuit model > utter demolition of my soul on the radio by Big Cat and Dave > threatening to bomb the office…)
Fast forward three years: in that final week, I wore rags to the Dunkin awards and ate an unmeasured handful of marijuana gummy bears on the bus there. And as the bears woke from their hibernation, I found myself on the receiving end of a disciplinary hearing that saw me slink out of a donut shop in Queens with my penis tucked so tightly between my legs that, losing circulation and looking from behind, it appeared I'd taped a handful of unripe blackberries to my taint.
It's wild, then, that on this same day, four years hence, I once again find myself wondering where I stand. I just spent four days playing golf in North Carolina with Dave and Kirk Minihane. Borrowing aptly from the shorthand for his podcast, Kirk made me want to KMS. I actually went back to our hotel after a round and tested the structural integrity of the closet rack to see if it might hold my weight, banging out a quick set of 15 pull-ups to make sure—best to be discovered with a pump, I reasoned. Then I tidied up a bit (since the maids would be useless in their hysteria,) selected my strongest belt, and hung the "Service Please" tag on the outside of my door. In the end, I decided against it simply because the hotel wasn't nice enough for me to die in. I can end a sentence with a preposition but I will not end my life in a three-star backpacker hostel that stirs diluted negronis and houses uncultured elderlies who revel at the value of an included breakfast.
Luckily, I learned from four years ago. We're facing a week off at the 4th. I'm going to actually get to this vacation this time. I need to finish the day with zero fireable offenses. I'm watching the clock like George Bailey and the Building and Loan gang counting down to the end of close with their last couple dollars. If I've learned anything over the last four years, it's that working here is a privilege but one that you can forfeit quickly.
For God's sake, have a wonderful Fourth of July.
Note: both Nate and Hubbs reached out to me after I submitted this blog. They were concerned. They are good men. However, I was just trying to be funny. If I'm going to off myself, you better believe I'm getting a room at the Aman.
There are a few others that I'm hunting for. We'll see just how much farther we can actually push the envelope now. Excited!