The Weekly, after all, has been all over the MBI like fleas on a dog in recent years. The Weekly doesn’t like the MBI. And the MBI doesn’t like the Weekly. That’s common knowledge. And yet, in our story today, MBI Director Bill Lutz seemed to deny that his department had a grudge against the paper. If that’s what he’s saying, it’s a crock. And if he’s not being honest about that, it makes you wonder what other parts of his story leave something to be desired.

In a best-case scenario for the Weekly, the paper would benefit from the same broad-based public wrath that followed the arrests of Lacey and Larkin. (Including, for example, the reaction of Clint Bolick, an official at the conservative Goldwater Institute, who told Phoenix radio station KTAR that the Arizona subpoena was “possibly the broadest invasion of privacy and free-speech rights that I’ve ever seen.”) A “Defend the Orlando Weekly” rally that took place earlier this week may help. So might a devastating article, “Operation MBI Shame,” posted at OrlandoWeekly.com following the arrests. Here’s an excerpt.

[R]ecently, undercover MBI agents have sexually harassed strippers, destroyed evidence, orchestrated and videotaped live sex shows, and jailed women for selling commonly available pornographic videos. The MBI is an inept, inefficient police organization, answerable to no one. . . . And if you dare confront the agency on their appalling record, they will try to put you out of business.

Still, given the nature of the charges against the paper — and the fact that Florida conservatism has a distinct Bible-Belt streak — the prospects for a popular backlash are uncertain.

Tattle tales
It’s a delicate thing, when you’re ensconced in sleepy New England, to venture into the go-go world of New York gossip. That said, here’s a nagging question: in his desk drawer filled with such items, does the New York Post’s Page Six editor Richard Johnson possess compromising photos of Rupert Murdoch, or what? Because Johnson’s scandal-proof tenure at the Murdoch-owned Post is starting to seem downright bizarre.

For those who don’t already know, Page Six is the Post’s (in)famous gossip column, which recently gave us one of the more striking examples of journalistic tone-deafness in recent memory. The catalyst was a New York magazine story about Gawker.com, the notoriously Manhattan-y, insider-y, bitchy media-gossip Web site. In said piece, author Vanessa Grigoriadis suggested that, with Gawker around, and Page Six “emasculated” by a recent payola scandal (more on that in a bit), the latter outfit was becoming superfluous.

Page Six’s response was published on October 16, under the headline EMASCULATED? WE’LL SEE! It closed with the following nugget: “Grigoriadis ignores the fact that half the Page Six staff is female. The male half might take her somewhere private and disprove her theory, but we don’t like a woman with a mustache.”

Much virtual ink was quickly spilled on the question of precisely what this bon mot meant. The prevailing interpretation seemed to be that it was a rape threat with an asterisk: in sum, Johnson and Bill Hoffman, the other guy on Page Six’s four-person staff, would prove Grigoriadis wrong by sexually assaulting her — that is, if she weren’t so (allegedly) hairy. Others noted that alternate interpretations were possible: for example, perhaps Johnson and Hoffman simply meant that they could visually prove to Grigoriadis that they weren’t castrated, or that they remain full of non-sexual vim and vigor.

Whatever the intended meaning, Page Six’s rebuttal brought an abundance of bad press — which was promptly filed, in the collective consciousness of those who pay attention to such things, with other bad press Page Six and Johnson have recently received.

Tasteless as the Grigoriadis shtick was, still-festering allegations that Page Six had a habit of trading good coverage for cash were probably worse. The Page Six payola scandal — tagged by wags as “Page Fix,” “Paid Six,” and “Payola Six” — developed after Jared Paul Stern, a former Page Six contributor, was accused of shaking down supermarket magnate/purported Radar moneyman Ron Burkle. Stern responded, essentially, by dishing mass quantities of dirt on the hand that had fed him, detailing Page Six’s alleged behind-the-scenes workings. His charges were soon augmented by those of Ian Spiegelman, another disgruntled Page Six alum. As ABC’s Nightline put it, the picture that emerged had Johnson “running the column like a Mafia don,” punishing those who didn’t play along and rewarding those who did. (The latter group includes Girls Gone Wild auteur/obnoxious jackass Joe Francis, who reportedly funded Johnson’s $50,000 bachelor party in 2006 in Mexico.)

In response — and in Page Six, no less — the Post admitted that Johnson had accepted a $1000 payment from a restaurateur, something Post editor Col Allan termed a “grave mistake.” The bachelor party went unexplained, however; later, the Times reported that a spokesman said that Johnson had paid for his own plane ticket.

Today, the Page Six payola scandal seems to have blown over, but it’s also left a long-term taint on the brand. Factor in the Grigoriadis flap, and you might think that the Post would be inclined to entrust the Page Six reins to someone less (ahem) controversial. Apparently, though, you would be wrong. Johnson is still running the gossip show at the Post. And when Radar contacted Allan for comment on the Grigoriadis dust-up earlier this month, he responded thusly: “Get a life.” Gosh, that must just be how things work in the big city.

On the Web
Adam Reilly's Media Log: //www.thephoenix.com/medialog