News executives infected with bullshit virus, officials say

A virulent and aggressive strain of brain fungus has infected American newspaper executives, causing them to say and believe fantastical things while expecting those statements to be taken seriously, health officials confirmed this week.

The fungus — encephalagic locos deleriumus, or "bullshit virus" — was once thought to be limited to low-level politicians and vacation timeshare salesmen. However, this week's announcement of drastic changes to the New Orleans Times-Picayune and other Advance Publications papers was the final evidence officials needed that the bullshit virus had infected a new population.

"We've suspected this for a long time," said Earnest Chambers, an epidemiologist with the National Institutes of Health. "When executives began cutting costs and trimming staff, they would talk as though they're boosting the fortunes of their papers. That flies in the face of reality, and yet it seemed they genuinely believed their ridiculous statements."

A memo from T-P publisher Ashton Phelps Jr. provides the best example.

In it, he says the now-daily paper will switch to publishing only three days a week, but that the newspaper will be "more robust." He also wrote that to "accelerate the digital growth of NOLA media group," there will be "a reduction in the size of the workforce."

Lisa Kanahi, who leads a quarantine strike team for the Centers for Disease Control, said she started preparing for a massive quarantine of newsroom leaders when the leaked memo hit the Internet Thursday.

"He's clearly delusional, and he's not alone," Kanahi said. "If you publish less, how is that more robust? How can you grow a media group while cutting staff?"

"It takes a team of bullshit-infected people to come up with something that big. We're worried this could take down the entire news industry."

A quarantine site hasn't been selected yet, she said.

This week's newspaper news wasn't the first time health officials saw evidence of the bullshit virus.

When the Las Vegas Review-Journal laid off nearly two dozen journalists in August 2011, Publisher Bob Brown stated that the cuts were "about growing this enterprise." He promised that "our advertisers and readers will see absolutely no impact at all," a statement that managed to be crazy and insulting at the same time.

The key is that the executives were not "spinning" the announcement, said Chambers. They actually believed that gutting an operation would help it grow. A mind free of the bullshit virus would be able to say something as simple as, "This is a tough move, but our troubled balance sheet demands it."

As for how they became infected, researchers think that the bullshit virus has lain dormant at newspapers for decades.

Journalists, after all, spend a lot of time around low-level politicians and could easily pick up the fungus from them. Due to the toxic levels of bullshit flowing through newsrooms, however — from phone calls, faxes, e-mails, reader comments and upper management — rank-and-file newshounds have developed a powerful immunity to bullshit.

News executives, however, have been away from that bullshit stew for a long time, and many never spent time in a newsroom, advancing instead from advertising or other sections. Without that built-up immunity, it was only a matter of time before they fell prey to the bullshit virus.

There is no known cure. A possible solution, at least temporarily, is to put more journalists in senior positions.

"They are infected," cautioned Kanahi. "But they know bullshit when they see it."

Paul backers run amok in Sparks, Reno

Caffeine- and adrenaline-fueled Ron Paul supporters took to the streets of Reno and Sparks following their surprise convention success this weekend, looking for more rooms to stack and contests to rig — with decidedly mixed results.

Filled with coffee and hubris, Ron Paul Revolution faithful took on a lounge act, a bingo parlor and some blackjack tables, convinced that the tide of fate was breaking their way. Earlier, Paul backers claimed an outsize number of delegates to the Republican National Convention at the Nevada convention meeting this weekend, just as they have at other recent state-level gatherings. 

The Nevada RonPaulios went on a celebration jag, first taking over Trader Dick's Lounge at the Sparks Nugget. All live music was limited to Elvis, Sinatra and Dean Martin.

When the band tried to compromise by playing Hall & Oates, Paul supporters shouted, "We don't need no Adult Education!" and peppered the stage with martini olives and lemon and lime drink garnishes.

Paul's backers next hit the Sparks Bingo Bonus Bongo Bar, where they figured there were so many of them that one of them had to win. But the prize - $1,000 and a pair of bongo drums - was won by June Blythely, a retiree from Sacramento who said she hadn't voted since 1972. 

"They kept telling me that my prize money was only worth $400 because of fiat money," said Blythely. "I told them, 'I own a Buick, and I wouldn't drive a Fiat if you paid me.' "

The Paul group then ventured to the blackjack tables at Harrah's Reno casino, scheming that if they worked together and occupied multiple tables they could beat the house.

Given the Paul supporters' penchant for betting long shots, though, too many kept hitting on 16 and 17. They were broke within an hour.

"Was very strange," said one of the blackjack dealers, Iliana Svetmonivich, a Ukranian-born nuclear physicist who emigrated to Reno in order to find a living-wage job. "They keep saying, 'Audit the Fed. Audit the Fed. No! Audit the deck!' "

Svetmonivich didn't know who Ron Paul is, but she grasped that her fervent blackjack players were politically motivated.

"If they want crazy person as president, they should make move to Russia," she said. "All politicians very crazy there."

Media flap turns into all-out war

A Twitter-driven feud between rival Las Vegas news organizations escalated into a full-blown terror campaign this week when journalists decided to put down their pens and take up swords — specifically, homemade explosives and high-caliber firearms.

The dispute between reporters at the Las Vegas Review-Journal and KLAS-TV star George Knapp started when the R-J scooped everyone in town on the arrest of a suspect who allegedly committed several brutal murders and sexual assaults.

Knapp initially Tweeted that the report was "greatly exaggerated" and insisted that "No one has been arrested for the double murders." After police confirmed that an arrest had been made, Knapp followed with a piece asserting that the paper's stories had endangered the investigation, a charge the R-J vigorously disputed.

Then, in the words of Anchorman Ron Burgundy, things "really got out of hand fast."

It started with the detonation of an improvised explosive device intended to take out Knapp on his drive to work. As a longtime investigative reporter, though, Knapp is insanely paranoid, and he drives a double-armored Cadillac Escalade with a swivel-mounted .50-caliber machine gun on the roof. 

The bomb did no damage and no one was injured.

A group called the RJL took credit for the attack. RJL purportedly means "Righteous Justice League." But seriously, that's not going to fool anyone.

Knapp allegedly retaliated by strafing the R-J's offices with his machine gun. The bunker-like building absorbed the rounds without incident, although the luxury automobile that Publisher Bob Brown flaunts to his cash-strapped employees exploded, most likely from a bullet that pierced the gas tank.

Finally, members of the rival news teams gathered on the site of the demolished Moulin Rouge casino for a brawl to settle it all, just like in "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy":

Handicapping the match was tough. The R-J has superior numbers, but KLAS cameramen, like television cameramen everywhere, are roughly the size of midget Bigfoots and have calves as big as turkey breasts. They're tough to stop once they get momentum.

Instead of fighting, though, the sides took turns quoting lines from "Anchorman." 

"No commercials - no mercy!" got a big laugh, and they decided to skip to the part of the movie where everyone has a Miller High Life. Also, no one had a trident.

Both groups decamped to Larry's Villa, where they drank cheap beer but did not eat the food, because that place is kinda nasty.

Police: Lethal force "only option" against fact-wielder

Las Vegas police shot and killed a downtown arts district leader Friday who was allegedly waving an inconvenient fact at police officers and city officials.

Westley Myles Isbutt, who owned the Arts Factory and Bar+Bistro, had spoken publicly about police officers being paid $66 an hour to provide security at special events. He had also stored opinions about that fact on a laptop computer he was carrying when police approached him outside his Charleston Avenue businesses Friday morning.

"He was ordered to drop the laptop, turn around and bend over, and to smile when he did it," said police Sgt. Chester P. Buzzworth. "He did not comply within 15 seconds, and in those situations lethal force is the only option."

It is unclear how many rounds were fired because homeless people immediately descended on the scene to collect bullets and bullet casings for recycling. So far this month, Las Vegas police have shot at least 632 people.

Isbutt was an Arts District pioneer who had grown increasingly frustrated with government regulations covering zoning and licensing. He was known around town as Wes Myles because ... well, because his last name was Isbutt.

He told the Las Vegas Review-Journal that he was thinking about leaving town, with the $66-an-hour required expenditure for off-duty police officers chief among the reasons why.

Several city officials visited police headquarters to ask about Isbutt's complaints this week. However, when they emerged from the building, they were pale as ghosts and trembling with what appeared to be abject fear. They refused to talk to reporters.

Buzzworth said the conversation with city officials was productive: "The public can sleep easily knowing that heavily armed men will be guarding all cultural events downtown. The streets, and our paychecks, are secure."

Some were worried that Benjamin Spillman, the R-J reporter who wrote the story that contained the $66-an-hour fact, might also be the target of several dozen police-issued firearms. But a confidential police source said Spillman did not need to worry.

"Fuck, that Mower kid's still alive, right?" he said, referring to Lawrence Mower, who wrote an in-depth investigative series about how Las Vegas police frequently shoot innocent, unarmed people or violate department shooting policies but face no consequences.

"Sure, people still read the newspaper sometimes, but it doesn't have the impact it used to," said the source.

Meanwhile, he said, Isbutt's various social media accounts had as many as 3,000 followers. Add that to a dangerous fact and there's no telling how much damage Isbutt could've done, the source said.

"Good God," he said. "What if that arts guy had Tweeted something?"