When Is Gawker Going To Get Out Of Shep Smith’s Pants? We Get It, He’s Gay
We know we’re not in that much of a position to talk, considering how much we laugh at Lindsey Graham and Marcus Bachmann and frankly all Republicans for being secretly gay, because of how they are all secretly gay, but your beef with this guy is he … has never voted anything mean about gays, or said anything mean about gays, but you don’t like his employer? Hey! We don’t either! Maybe leave the man the fuck alone. You know he’s gay. We know he’s gay (from reading YOU, Dad. We got it from reading you!). Why is it so important that he says the words, with his mouth, “I AM A GAY”?
Seriously, Gawker, your hard-on for this is just fucking unseemly.
Here is what you wrote:
About ten minutes later, Smith came walking out, at which moment I stood up and, after identifying myself as a reporter at Gawker, asked if he minded answering some of my questions. Smith looked ahead, completely silent. I pressed: “Are you not answering questions?”
Suddenly, from somewhere behind us, a tall man in a black suit—this was Smith’s third minder, Christopher DiLella—ran up and shoved me away from Smith. When I turned around and indicated my confusion, however, he immediately backed away.
“It’s nice to meet you, Keenan,” Smith said when I caught up with him near the building’s first set of glass doors.
“You, too,” I said. “I’m just trying to ask if you’re actually acknowledging that you’re gay.” Smith laughed without opening his mouth. Earlier that night, he walked away from a Washington Blade reporter who asked him a similar question.
You know who comes across poorly here, Gawker? You. : (
It’s a fair point at the end of your story, that fair point about Fox giving sizeable donations to the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association, which was throwing the party at which you accosted (yes! accosted!) Shepard Smith to remind him that hoooboy do you got the GOODS on him and how he, Shepard Smith, is gay.
You know what else is “accosting”? Your previous entry, on his boyfriend.
[Smith’s boyfriend] has not returned multiple emails sent to three different email addresses, a LinkedIn message, five text messages, and three voicemails left on his cell phone. Nor were we able to find him at his last known address, a penthouse suite of an East Village condominium. The building’s doorman said that [Smith’s boyfriend] moved out “a month and a half ago,” but did not know where he moved. (According to public records, the suite sold for $1,125,000 in mid-September.) Voicemails left with more than a dozen family members and former co-workers went unreturned as well.
You probably think that is just awesome shoeleather reporting, but to the rest of the world it sounds like you need a goddamn restraining order. Gawker Stalker was supposed to a cute thing, not an actual one.