When Ben started editing for The Consumerist, part of his contract was that he had to service Gawker overlords like Joel Johnson and Nick Denton, but not Brownlee, who doesn’t go for that gay stuff. Everyone thought it was a fair arrangement: although a passable writer, Ben’s true talents have always been most evident in his carnal artistry, and what artist wouldn’t want to make a living doing what he loves? But then Gawker’s crackerjack legal monkeys looked over the contract, cited New York State prostitution laws and Ben found that the numerous vacancies he had been hired by Gawker to fill were reduced to only one… that of a lowly Consumerist editor. Sullen, Ben comforted himself the only way he knew how: injecting every Consumerist post with as many gay non sequiturs as possible.
