Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Morford Update: "I am not dead"
Morford emailed this out to his subcriber list. Apparently, there is much more to the tale than meets the eye:
Just a quick note, a delirious reply to all the astounding queries and the "Where the hell are you?" emails.
This is to you. This is to everyone who wrote in, about 1,300 of you (yes, this is a mass email reply -- deep apologies, but I had to), not knowing a thing of what happened to me or my column, not really believing the line that I was on sudden unannounced vacation/hiatus and intuiting, quite correctly, that Something Must Be Wrong. Here, then, is the bottom line:
I am not dead.
That is, for most, the good news. I, Mark Morford, am not dead and my Notes & Errata column on sfgate.com is not dead and my deeply skewed, wildly popular, ever-lubricious Morning Fix email newsletter, well, that's a different story.
The newsletter and I, we have been through a bit of legal and corporate hell lo these past six weeks, as our futures with this company were suddenly under duress, picked apart, threatened, reviewed and revised and reconsidered. It was ugly. Blindsided me completely. Access to my sfgate.com email was disabled in early March and not reactivated until last Friday. I had no way to read or reply to anyone who wrote in to this address. Such is the way. Let that be a lesson to me. Or something.
The short of it: The case against me did not hold. The fire and brimstone died down, explanations were delivered, punishments were doled. I am still with sfgate.com. My Notes & Errata column still lives and should return this week, intact. The future of the Morning Fix remains to be seen. Life, it be surreal and spasmodic.
(Note: My case, apparently, reached far up the corporate heirarchy. So please, no angry emails to sfgate.com editors/management -- they had little to do with it).
You who wrote in asking about my status, you should be gilded and licked by angels. I am flattered by all the concern and wish you all a long hard intensely felt tongue kiss coupled with a gentle back massage and maybe a nice bottle of expensive sake poured slowly over your tailbone by gangs of moist dreamy nymphs who can recite Keats while playing with your nipples with their toes. Thank you.
Salud, namaste, kampei, lube on,
Side note: I hope to have markmorford.com, which I already own, up and running relatively soon (right after I work through the logistics of how to design and maintain it) so readers will have somewhere to go in case this happens again. Which of course it won't. But in case it does. Which it won't. But just in case. Know what I mean?
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