I don’t think I’m alone when I say that we were all a bit sick of Mr. Fancy Pants Ben Popken running the show. Despite his smug, girlish demeanor and Woody-Allenesque voice, Ben proved quite capable of hogging the spotlight, jetting around in Gawker-billed limousines to his various 20/20 interviews about stories I broke. Meanwhile, I — John Brownlee (“Who?”) — was pushed back into the shadows of a site I’d been working on for months before he first burst through our door with a high-pitched and smart-alecky “Hey hey hey!”
