Who listens to bloated aging Baby Boomers who took all the jobs and made all the rules so that Gen X’ers could never get ahead in the marketplace anyway?

Mike Francesa is basically the king of sports talk radio in the New York City area, which, by definition if you live in ego-centric New York City or its environs (within 100 miles), makes him the king of sports talk radio.

Based on reports, Mike Francesa, age 56, ripped into one of the leading Mets bloggers, first by insulting his hygiene (this from a man, whom I’ve seen in person, who could generously stand to lose a few pounds). Still, that sort of classlessness is de rigueur for talk radio, particularly sports talk radio, and is sadly endemic to our society. So I’m not going to debate its appropriateness, or complete lack thereof.

No, Francesa added to his talk: “who reads blogs anyway?

Well, Mike, plenty of Gen X’ers do, particularly those who write them and who couldn’t land jobs in traditional media (or get promoted or get new ones at bigger papers) because of bloated, egotistical, aging Baby Boomers like you who sucked up all the jobs, then changed the rules and qualifications for entry level and mid-level promotions, which might have been fine except that those rules never applied to you, Boomers, in middle and upper management and in the even-slightly-higher profile jobs.

No, asshats like you have made a career out of “do as I say, not as I do,” while fucking over the economy to fatten your wallets and bellies, and then had the temerity to cry about your retirements drying up in a poor economy that you created. Yeah, Mike, I read blogs. I write for two of them. So do a lot of Gen X’ers who got shut out of your fucking industry and others because of your bloated, whirlpool-sucking presence.

Now, Francesa might have objected to the positive nature of the Mets post he was discussing (because, God forbid, all sportswriting must be negative and critical), which might still have been a fair point if Francesa didn’t promote himself out to be the world’s greatest Yankee fan (fandom that, to his credit, he has never denied) or to being Bill Parcells buddy/lackey during Parcells’ run as the New York Jets coach in the late Nineties when they were as close as Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee (something Francesa used to get very upset about if anyone ever brought up the apparent conflict of interest inherit in that situation). The one time I was deemed worthy of covering an NFL training camp (for what it’s worth) I got to observe, firsthand, Francesa buddying up to his pal Parcells on the sidelines after a practice, a circle no other journalist could dare enter, editorial distance be damned.

So, Mike Francesa, I read blogs. I don’t listen to your ego-driven show.


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