Bobby Calvan, you are America’s Biggest Douche!
The World’s Biggest Asshat Blogs His Asshattery
A newspaper reporter (an endangered species anyway) acts like a total fuckhead dealing with an American soldier trying to protect him. He manages to be arrogant, insulting, ignorant and pathetically ignorant all at once. This post is a true thing of beauty. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a parody written to make reporters look bad (like they don’t look bad enough already.
This is why Americans hate the LameStreamMedia. This guy’s anti-Americanism comes through loud and clear throughout, as well as his scorn and hatred of the military, ironic since he is depending on them to make his living (and to go on living).
You’ve got to read the comments to get the true beauty of this asshat’s demise. I can’t really add anything that can top the spanking he’s taking from virtually every comment in the thread. I’d suspect the thousands of angry emails to his employer will see his ass called home, probably immediately, then fired.
UPDATE 2 Since Calvan has shut down his entire blog, the entire post plus the comments (now properly formatted) can be found here: Bobby Caina Calvan Blog : the entire post with comments preserved.
This post is going to go into internet folklore as one of the greatest beclownings in history. My hat is off to you, Bobby “Asshat” Calvan.
My own comment:
This post will go down in history as the first comments thread to completely unite all the disparate individuals on the internet in one, unified opinion: Bobby Calvan is an asshole.
To beclown yourself so publicly and thoroughly is truly an achievement to envy. I predict that (for a week at least) this will become the most linked and scorned blog entry ever.
Again, my congratulations, Bobby “Asshat” Calvan.
Good luck in your search for future employment when you are ignominiously called back to the home office and fired, probably even as I type this.
UPDATE: Well, Bobby “Asshat” Calvan further disgraces himself by editing the original post and adding facts that seem to justify his asinine behavior, now that hundreds of people have unanimously chastised him in the comments. For posterity, I saved the page and here is the original text. Note to Bobby: you don’t retroactively change blog posts. You can post an update or follow-up retracting or apologizing, but the original must stand, in all its glory. It will, you can be sure, on other blogs anyway.
Date October 23, 2007
Lima is beautiful in the spring, when it’s not too hot, I was told. Machu Pichu is a must see, too.
My visits to the Green Zone are always a joy when I pass through checkpoints manned by Peruvian troops, with whom I have established a rapport. Sure, they are sticklers for rules, but unlike Ugandan troops — who have the warmth of armed robots — the Peruvians are simply simpatico.
They are a friendly group with easy smiles. They’ll chat you up while being frisked — a pad down with benefits. They’ll engage you in conversation once they discover you speak their language.
The experience isn’t nearly the same with other multinational forces. The Ugandan troops are often terse. While not mean, their reticence often makes one feel like one of the many sheep being herded through Baghdad’s many checkpoints.
The Americans, however, are the absolute worst. I had a testy exchange Tuesday with an American soldier at an entry checkpoint into the Green Zone.
Most of my entries into the Green Zone had been by car. I was running late to cover a news conference (because one of my security folks was late for work), and we decided to take a short cut through the Green Zone, instead of driving all the way around to get to the Iraqi foreign minister’s office. We had no trouble getting in. (Read the story here.)
We parked the car, and I headed out of the Green Zone (along with one member of my security staff) to attend the news conference. Getting out is seldom ever a problem.
When the news conference was over, we headed back.
That’s when trouble started.
At the first check point, a pair of Ugandan soldiers asked for identification. We showed our military-issued badges. Unbeknownst to us, we were supposed to be carrying an additional form of ID.
He asked for a passport. I told him I didn’t have it on me. (The advice is to lock up your passport once in Baghdad and never take it out until departing.) He asked for another form of ID, and I replied that I didn’t have anything else.
The American soldier assigned by the U.S. military to oversee this particular checkpoint came over to investigate the problem.
He asked if I had a driver’s license on me. I told him I didn’t have one. He looked incredulous. Why would I need a driver’s license in Baghdad; I wouldn’t be driving, I told him.
He took offense at my response.
Then he looked at the second ID of my companion. It was a badge issued by our newspaper. He said it wouldn’t do. Besides, he asked, what is Knight Ridder?
“I never heard of it,” he said. He probably would have never heard of McClatchy, either. (We use Knight Ridder because it already had a bureau in Baghdad before the chain was bought by the McClatchy Co.)
I explained that it’s one of the largest newspaper companies in the United States. It owns the Miami Herald, The Sacramento Bee, the Kansas City Star.
“I know the Miami Herald, he said. I used to live there. But I never heard of Knight Ridder.” He began to chuckle, pronouncing the company as Knight Rider. Perhaps his chuckles stemmed from memories of the 1980s television show “Night Rider.” He then seemed to mock us.
We couldn’t call for an escort, because he wouldn’t let us switch on our cell phones. (Cell phone batteries need to be removed at most checkpoints.) If we wanted to use our cell phones, we would have to make the far walk beyond the barricades and razor wire. We would have to put ourselves in danger by standing out in the middle of downtown Baghdad where I could become a potential target. (As required, I was wearing my body armour, despite the heat.)
With nothing to lose I decided to get pushy.
I asked him how he could not possibly know that Knight Ridder was one of the country’s largest newspaper chains. I told him that we’re bigger than the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times.
“I’m from Atlanta. I only know the Journal,” he said.
“I thought you said you also knew the Miami Herald,” I retorted.
“We’re bigger than the Journal,” I replied. “You never heard of Knight Ridder?”
He didn’t want to be embarrassed. He already looked irritated. He asked me if I knew the number of the military’s media office.
“I would if you’d let me switch on my phone,” I snapped. “What’s the use of these media badges if people like you aren’t going to honor them? Is this for nothing? Why don’t you call? That’s your job, isn’t it?” I made it known that I was jotting down his name.
My security man was struggling with a smirk on his face. He knew my plan. I was going to bully my way back into the Green Zone.
The man with the gun glowered as I continued my barrage of protests. The Ugandan soldiers were oblivious to the commotion, despite the growing line behind me.
The American soldier called another soldier on his radio to ask if he had ever heard of “Knight Ridder.”
To my relief, the voice said that, yes, Knight Ridder is one of the country’s biggest newspaper companies, that it owned many of the country’s largest newspapers.
The soldier in front of us explained the situation to his colleague. The voice on the other side suggested that we be let through, that the media office would only instruct him to simply confirm if the pictures on our media badges matched the ones on our shoulders.
When you’ve got nothing to lose, I told my security officer, you do what it takes. He nodded in agreement.
Yeah, nodded in agreement because he presciently foresaw your blogging this post and being hilariously bawled out by your boss before being tossed out of a job on your ass. I’m quite sure the security guy, being in the same business, was more “simpatico”, as you say, with the soldier than he was with your idiocy and bad manners.
I can’t wait for the ‘follow-up’ to this.