Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World! (31 page)

And then, while standing there, Irish filmmaker, former
Financial Times
reporter, and friend Phelin McAleer walked up and asked me what he should ask Weiner. I replied: “Does he apologize to me for his strategy to destroy me to save himself?”

No sooner did I suggest that than McAleer boldly asked Weiner: “Will you apologize to Andrew Breitbart?”

While Weiner eventually singled me out, he included me in a wide apology net that involved even Sri Lankan street merchants.
But McAleer persevered and got him to focus on me. At the moment, I didn’t take it as particularly sincere, but rather as a forced recognition that he had wronged me. But the media, which I challenged in my thirteen-minute Q&A over its relentless, baseless character assassination of me, seemed to take note of the apology and its significance. For a very brief moment, perhaps days, walking around midtown Manhattan, going from studio to studio and through the heart of media row, I felt vindicated.

The highlight of that small window was going to two network morning shows: the CBS
Early Show
, and NBC’s
Today
show, where I was interviewed by Matt Lauer. Indulge me this moment: I know I’m not supposed to like him, I know he represents the Democrat-Media Complex to a T, but he was nice before the interview and professional during it, and he gave me a fair shake. The best part of that interview was where he asked why I refused to publish the final photograph—the most graphic one that would have knocked Weiner out. At this point, Weiner was still standing and refusing to step down. I am sure the media would have released a photograph like that if they were me and I were Weiner—and they should have, because it’s news. But I did not want to go down that road. I’m not TMZ, and I didn’t want to be known as the guy that released a triple-X “dick pic” of a sitting congressman. I took the high road on my whirlwind redemption tour of Manhattan, and within twenty-four hours, I nearly careened off the cliff.

Before I made the determination not to publish the hyperoffensive photo, I had shown it to a few media types I had run into, and I had not seen anything wrong with showing it privately. First, when journalists saw it, they, too, understood implicitly that its public release would have resulted in his immediate removal from office. Second, it’s the funniest found object in the history of politics. It just is. When you see it, after you are done laughing to the point
of hyperventilation, one cannot refrain from declaring: “What the hell was this guy thinking?” One of the people I chose to show the photo to was a friend of my friend Greg Gutfeld, host of
Red Eye with Greg Gutfeld
and cohost of
The Five
. That friend was Anthony Cumia, cohost of the
Opie and Anthony
radio show. Even though I’ve never listened to those shock jocks, I was more than aware of their mischievous history, about which I am mostly neutral. But in 2007, not long after the launch of
Breitbart.tv
, we posted an interview that Opie and Anthony held with a homeless man who boasted of wanting to rape Condoleeza Rice and Margaret Thatcher. The exposure of the audio caused Sirius XM to suspend the duo for one month. So upon meeting Cumia, who’d had a one-month paid vacation due to one of my publications, I was pleasantly surprised that he was a fan, harbored no ill feelings, and was one of the most entertaining and genial people I had met in a long time. Because I had one of those early-morning-show wake-up times, I left Cumia, Gutfeld, Ann Coulter, and a bunch of other friends at a Manhattan bar and eatery to head to bed. When I got to my hotel, I realized I had left my now-infamous BlackBerry charger at the bar. I called Gutfeld, who said Cumia would come over and hand-deliver it to me in the hotel lobby. That kind act, at around midnight, put me in a trusting mood, and I sailed into uncharted waters: shock jock radio and the
Opie and Anthony
show, whose hosts still had every reason to want revenge.

So I left one morning show interview and headed to the Sirius XM studio at Forty-Eighth Street and Sixth Avenue, walking with my luggage, and slipped into the building with barely any time to get to JFK to fly back to Los Angeles. I found myself waiting outside Opie and Anthony’s studio near actress Glenn Close, who was there to promote her TV show. When I entered the studio, I met Gregg “Opie” Hughes for the first time. I did not get the same
positive vibe from him that I got from Anthony. Also in the studio was the surly leftist actor Vincent D’Onofrio. The first half of the hourlong interview was rollicking and profane, a more raw take on
l’affaire Weiner
than I had ever given. It was fun, and cathartic. During a break, I was asked to show the photograph. As I searched for it on my BlackBerry, I reemphasized why I did not want the image to be made public, and I asked them to respect that wish. On tape—tape that I did not realize was rolling—they agreed not to reproduce or publish the photo. But shock jocks, apparently, do what shock jocks do, and en route to JFK, no more than a half hour after leaving the studio, I received a phone call from a reporter—from
New York
magazine, I believe—who asked about a photo that purported to be the prized Weiner “dick pic” that had emanated from Opie and Anthony.

Oh, shit. “I have to get back to you.”

And I proceeded to call my business partner and best friend Larry Solov. “I think we have a problem…”

Salon.com
, which led the Democrat-Media Complex’s attack-the-messenger barrage against me, wrote that the worst part about the chain of events leading to Weiner’s admission was that Breitbart was proved correct. And I knew, at this moment, that this minor mistake in judgment, to trust shock jocks, was going to be exploited and manipulated—and it was. My new best friends on network television and the cable networks had now seized upon the seeming contradiction between my statement to Lauer that I wanted to protect Weiner’s family by not releasing the photo, and the inadvertent release by way of notorious radio pranksters. I feared that my whirlwind redemption tour was coming to an abrupt end.

Luckily, the Virgin America flight back to Los Angeles had WiFi—and in the middle seat, in coach, I furiously typed away an explanation and apology. In midflight, when I feared the left
and media would turn this molehill into a mountain, I watched on CNN—on the seat in front of me—the breaking news that Huma Abedin, Weiner’s wife, was pregnant.
Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m a character in a soap opera,
I thought.

When I landed, a CNN producer was waiting for me at baggage claim, holding a sign like the ones limousine drivers display. He grabbed me and took me outside to the departure level, where a massive CNN satellite truck was waiting for the now-defunct Elliot Spitzer show. Was he going to ream me for my
Opie and Anthony
faux pas? Was he going to be the one to try to pivot the story yet again, to somehow make me the bad guy? He began the interview by asking me about the incident, wherein I answered that I still chose not to publish the photograph, but now other websites, including Gawker, had chosen to publish it without any media scrutiny. The photo
is
news, I had stated; I had shown it to other journalists previously, and I regretted what the shock jocks did. He accepted the answer, and for the most part the issue went away. Only a few enraged and bitter left-wing stalwarts desperately cling to this minor part of the narrative, because they need anything to minimize the victory I had achieved.

The next big moment in the story came when, a week later, three weeks into a saga that sucked the air out of Washington and took the Democratic Party off its “Mediscare” message, Rep. Weiner—with no allies and excruciating pressure from his own party—was forced, finally, to step down. It was borderline anticlimactic. I landed at the Minneapolis airport for the Right Online conference, which was being held across the street from the left-wing Netroots convention. After doing a flurry of high-profile radio and cable TV interviews, I was received with a hero’s welcome at the conservative conference. I even walked over to the left-wing conference, perhaps looking for a confrontation with those who heeded the
Daily Kos call to destroy me when I dared report the truth about Anthony Weiner. I was met with the mob that Ann Coulter so eloquently writes about. Video of the confrontation went viral, and yet again I went on
Hannity
to discuss my public battles with the Democrat-Media Complex.

The quickness of the transition from being the most popular person on media row, with phones ringing at an alarming rate, to virtual radio silence in the days that followed was as abrupt as it was humorous and informative.

In January 2010, Republican Scott Brown improbably won the late Ted Kennedy’s Senate seat in Massachusetts. It’s hard not to look at that historic moment in time in context with our exposure of ACORN a few months prior to the November 2009 gubernatorial elections in New Jersey and Virginia. A year later, our tireless defense of the Tea Party mind-set against sustained and wicked mischaracterization by the mainstream media and Hollywood helped pave the way for the historic 2010 midterm election tsunami. Since the media that we check and balance refuses to give us our credit, we will gladly take credit ourselves. But the victory that has its most obvious roots in our reporting is the shocking election of Republican Bob Turner to Congressman Weiner’s vacated seat. Let it be noted that not one major media outlet, news wire, newspaper, or news portal contacted me for comment on the day a Republican took the New York Ninth, this historic Democratic seat in Brooklyn and Queens. For three election cycles in a row, the power of New Media—feisty and defiant reporting, wherein “the counternarrative” defeats “the narrative”—has sent shock waves through New York’s media row and the nation’s capital. They are shaken. They are weary. They will double down. Yet “we, the people” will prevail.

I love my job. I
love
fighting for what I believe in. I love having
fun while doing it. I love reporting stories that the Complex refuses to report. I love fighting back, I love finding allies, and—famously—I enjoy making enemies.

Three years ago, I was mostly a behind-the-scenes guy who linked to stuff on a very popular website. I always wondered what it would be like to enter the public realm to fight for what I believe in. I’ve lost friends, perhaps dozens. But I’ve gained hundreds, thousands—who knows?—of allies. At the end of the day, I can look at myself in the mirror, and I sleep very well at night.

First and foremost, I want to thank my wife, Susie. Long before I even met her, I was told by a friend, who has since passed away, that he met my future wife, a young, beautiful, and hysterically funny woman who at the time lived two thousand miles away. I am eternally grateful that Mike Gaybrant’s fantastical prophecy came true.

To our amazing(ly large) family, Samson, Mia, Charlie, and Will: Too many people fought to create this country to squander it in a generation of greed and irresponsibility. I cannot stand on the sidelines as you and your generation are being handed the tab. You are beautiful, smart, and unconditionally loved, and I hope that I inspire you to become strong individualists—even if that means sometimes disagreeing with your headstrong father.

To Larry Solov: At first a friend, and second, my most trusted adviser. You have made so many quiet sacrifices to join this business turned cultural, political, and media war. I admire you for your intense loyalty, for looking after the things I don’t always want to see, and for balancing your two worlds to make things work for us. I hope one day you can look back and realize how much of this fight is inspired by you and your moral compass and decency.
Thanks for not having ADHD, too. That would really, really suck. Our friendship is cherished more than words can describe.

To my mother, Arlene, and my sister, Tracey, and her beautiful family (husband Brian, and children Ben, Jake, and Lola): Thanks for your constant support and love. Thanks, Mom, for instilling that distinct guilt complex that makes making the right and moral decision a necessity.

To Orson and Ally: Two of the more important role models in my life. Orson, you’ve taught me how to mix the magic formula of truth, conviction, humor, and point of view. Let’s see how it works out! Ally, your compassion and decency are an inspiration. You have done more to make our extended family gel than anyone else. Your and Orson’s prayers do not go unnoticed. Thanks for putting in a good word with the Big Guy.

To Carolyn, Mimi, Marc (the most talented man I know), Max, Zeke, Rosemary, Calvin, Zelly, Georgia, et al.: The degree to which you agree or disagree with me politically doesn’t change a thing about how grateful I am to have you as my family. That goes for Georgia, especially! Vote Chris Christie ’12!

To the Big Editors: There’s rarely a week that goes by that I don’t think out of the blue about how “lucky” we got with our first editor pick, John Nolte. Yes, he is the conscience of “the Bigs”—but when the wars begin, he is the first to grab a weapon and fight the good fight. Michael Flynn, a longtime friend and trench warrior, was the right man at the right time to run Big Government and to make sense of the wild new Obama/Pelosi/Reid big-government terrain. After fighting the activist left for so many years, his collaboration in the group takedown of mighty, mighty corrupt ACORN is his place in history. First the erudite combatant Michael Walsh, and now the elegant warrior Dana Loesch, Big Journalism is a central part of the Bigs mission: it’s not just the corrupt politicians who need
to be held in check, but, as Sarah Palin called them, “the corrupt bastards” of the media who use the false veil of objectivity to fight so consistently and mercilessly against those who reject their rigid “Progressive” goals. Over at Big Peace we have our resident scholar, Peter Schweizer. Sometimes the guilt gets to be too much thinking that we rushed this impeccable gentleman into Animal House. We’re so glad his sobriety is there to tame our overenthusiasm from time to time. And we’re even more grateful he stands with us when the going gets tough. Our latest editor, Larry O’Connor, entered the fray as a contributor and became a must-hire from day one and is family. And, last and most certainly not least, Alex Marlow. Alex was our first hire, and is arguably the most important person in the entire enterprise. With that admission, you are now a marked man. You have earned every ounce of my respect for you. In fifteen years when you need me to vouch for your character, you know I’ll be there singing your many talents and virtues. Wink, wink.