Rupert Murdoch dragged a wrinkled finger across his iPad yesterday, scanning Twitter to see who was mentioning him. And that’s when he saw it, the tweet and paired blog post that made his eyes widen and his cheeks flush. He mouthed a breathy “no,” as he read it.
The leather desk chair creaked as he sat back, sighing exasperatedly. He placed the iPad on his mahogany desk. Unsure if he was angry, or just embarrassed, he thought about it. Maybe I’ll buy Mediabistro and just put those hacks out of the job, he thought. Or maybe I’ll sue them for libel, he thought, but quickly brushed off the idea, because he knows he doesn’t need any more legal woes. The phone hacking thing was enough. No need to drag some brazen bastards before a judge and jury.
He scratched his forehead, the creased 82-year-old skin molding like Silly Putty ™ in his finger tips.
Only one thing to do, he thought. I’ve got to launch a stellar defense of my newspaper, my New York Post, my baby.
“Wendi,” he called across the room to his wife, Wendi Deng, who was catching her breath after verbally demolishing the new maid for breathing too loud or something like that. “Can you look over my shoulder on this one? I want to make sure I get it just right — so all the world’s media gazers recant their criticisms of the Post.”
“Sure,” she said, and cracked her knuckles.
Old Rupe started tapping away at the screen.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect, darling,” Wendi said. “This will probably boost the Post‘s subscription sales! You’re so smart.”
Rupert smiled. He clicked send. And the rest of us got this:
All NYPost pics were those distributed by FBI.And instantly withdrawn when FBI changed directions.
— Rupert Murdoch(@rupertmurdoch) April 20, 2013
So, on behalf of my co-editor Chris O’Shea and the rest of FishbowlNY, you’re welcome.
Editor’s note: This is more satire. Duh.
Image: [BBC/Daily Mail]