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Your Working-Class Media: Goldberg Edition

Jesus tits:

David Bradley had been trying to lure Jeffrey Goldberg to the Atlantic for more than two years.

Bradley, the magazine’s owner, wrote flattering letters. He courted Goldberg at a McDonald’s on Wisconsin Avenue. He proffered a hefty signing bonus. And when the New Yorker’s Washington correspondent finally seemed receptive to making the move, Bradley sent in the ponies.

“He’s incredibly persistent and makes you feel like you’re God’s gift to journalism,” says Goldberg, who had turned Bradley down once before. But that was before the horses showed up at his home to entertain his children. “The charm is incredibly disarming,” says Goldberg, who joined the Atlantic last month.

I would just like to announce that I am a) available for pet-related bribery to the editors of any and all publications and b) a bargain at the going rate of a fat, happy weaselbeast:

Via Crack Den comment by the lovely and talentedDoodle Bean.

A.

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