I don't fucking like Mike Harrington. He's a monumental piece of shit, a terrible writer, horrible on twitter, looks creepy in the way that every guy who owns big white van with the faintest of rust marks looks creepy.
He's one of the reasons I wrote so much between summer of 2011 and summer of 2013, ending with this last one about the Sabres end of the season presser. That piece was so much fucking work and so much fun with transcribing and forcing jokes. Surprisingly, it was received by Harrington actually quite well as he responded to me "hahahah, asshole, that was awesome, also I hate you, but funny as hell" or something to that effect.
It feels lazy and probably is lazy to take shots at the dude over and over, though I never said I got into this world of sports shouting to work hard. Either way, Harrington's sort of funny and human response to me being pretty terrible to all of Buffalo sports print media caught me off guard to the point that I've since been pretty quiet when it comes to his buffoonery. Maybe that was his intention? To make me bored of taking him to task since he had destroyed some of the shock value of it - knowing he reads everything written about him online, because of course he does, and knowing he's fuming over me calling him the leader of the White Van Brigade. The joy was gone. So I let his digs at women's soccer or UFC or the Mets go without any responsive ragestorm because, ugh, why bother?
It was good while it lasted, I suppose.