John Gibson is a Total Asshat
Title: John Gibson is a Total Asshat
Author: Yours truly
Fandom: The Daily Show
Pairing: Jon/Stephen (friend-shippy)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warning: This isn’t really crack… it’s more just an exposition of my anger.
A/N: So I conceived, wrote, and edited this all when very tired/annoyed. But, since it’s pretty dern topical and I’m moving tomorrow (as well as the fact that I’ve put out shittier stories than this before without a second thought), I’m posting tonight. HUZZAH! If you don’t know what I’m referring to, here’s an article/video of John Gibson being a total asshat and Jon’s response.
Length: 1809
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated. Also, concrit is very welcome.
Summary:
JOHN GIBSON IS A TOTAL ASSHAT
“So… want me to kill him for you?”
Jon was startled from his paperwork and looked up quickly to see Stephen in the doorway. “Jesus, Stephen. You scared me. What are you doing here? It’s only…” He glanced at his watch. “8:30. Our meeting isn’t until 10.”
“I know. We only have one every day. You still haven’t answered me yet: do you want me to kill him?”
Jon looked at Stephen from where he now sat across from him. “Stephen, it’s too early for you to be this obtuse.”
“It’s also waaaay too early to be using words like ‘obtuse,’” Stephen shot back. “Anyway, I wanted to catch you early enough in the day since I need you to be in the right kind of mood for what I’m asking.” He gave Jon an appraising look up and down. “Judging by the expression on your face, you must be on your second coffee which means you’re a.) mostly coherent yet b.) still vaguely murderous, thus making your attitude the perfect emotional cocktail. So, again: do you want me to kill him?”
Jon just shook his head slowly before rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. “Kill who?” he asked, puzzled.
Stephen just gave him a look; tilting his head forward a little, he raised both eyebrows and stared at Jon expectantly.
Jon suddenly understood what was being hinted at. “So I gather you heard about my new-found popularity on Fox?” he asked dryly.
Stephen leaned back in his chair, wrapping his arms over his chest and draping his ankle over one knee. “Yup. I read about it on the interwebs in one of my daily egocentric googlings of myself.”
“My name turns up when you search your name?” Jon asked, his interest piqued.
“Well…” Stephen let an embarrassed smile crossing his face. “I may have googled you.” Jon snorted out a laugh but refrained from making the obvious inappropriate comment. “But, you know, I only do it because then I get to see if anything that links your name to mine shows up.”
Jon smirked. “Uh huh, of course.”
“Oh, I also saw it on Olbermann’s show.”
“Really? He covered that?”
“Yup. Named the guy the Worst Person of the night.”
“So you were just watching and he happened to mention it?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“… I always kind of forget you have such a hard on for him.”
Stephen gave Jon a dreamy look. “Of course, Jon. The man reeks of brawny power. I probably have even more of a hard on for him now, given the coverage he gave the story.”
“Indignant as ever, I assume?”
“Rightly so. And that brings me back to my original question: do you want me to kill him?”
“Olbermann?”
“…You know who I mean, Jon.”
Jon sighed. “No, Stephen. I don’t want you to kill him. I couldn’t live with the guilt if you went to prison. You’re way too pretty to go un-deflowered.”
Stephen smirked. “Well, thank you, but you forget that when I say ‘do you want me to kill him’ I really mean ‘do you want me to get my people to kill him’?”
“’Your people’? Who the hell are your people? A bunch of angry Irish Catholics?”
“Actually… that probably would work, but no.” Stephen paused for dramatic effect. Or was it just the gravitas talking? “The Nation, Jon,” he said sagely. “One word, one raise of the eyebrow, one wag of my finger, and… the problem will be taken care of.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m talking to the don of a very creepy and way too out of control mob?”
“Because the Colbert Nation knows a lot about loyalty, Jonathan. Loyalty is key to the Nation. And nobody mocks my token Jew. Nobody.”
Jon smirked again and settled into his chair. “No, Stephen.”
And, just like that, the gravitas was gone. “Come on, Jon,” Stephen whined. “I’ll just mention it on the show! Act a little incensed… then the problem will just… resolve itself.”
“No, Stephen.”
Stephen huffed a little. “You are absolutely no fun at all.”
Jon smiled, feeling tired. “Yeah, well, sorry. I’m also your token Wet Blanket.” He began to fidget with the bobblehead on his desk. “So… they’re talking about it on the internet?”
“Oh, man.” Stephen bounced up and down in his seat, looking excited. “They are pissed. I’ve never seen the word 'asshat' used so many times.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word, but okay.” Jon smiled quietly. “So… no one’s been saying, ‘oh, man, Gibson’s sooo right, Jon Stewart is a fucking moron’?”
Stephen grinned. “Not any more so than usual. Has Tracey seen or heard it?”
Sighing, Jon began doodling on the paper before him. “Unfortunately yes. I’ve never heard the words ‘fucking cuntbag’ used that much at once. It was actually pretty impressive.”
Stephen laughed outright. “Oh, Tracey. Impressive is a good word for her. Has anyone else mentioned anything?”
“Uh… a couple of the writers have dropped in. They want to write it into the show.”
“Are you gonna let them?”
“Eh… I don’t think so.”
“Jon. Why?”
“I don’t know… it just seems to be playing into his hands, you know? I don’t want to give him the fucking satisfaction.”
“Well, if you burn him badly enough, it won’t be satisfying. Except for you. And, well… most of the rational world, come to think of it.”
“Still… I don’t think so.”
“Okay, fine. At least let me talk about it then!”
“Stephen, no. The last thing I need is for a mob to storm John Gibson’s house and take him hostage before stringing him up with American flags. Or force-feeding him to eagles. I refuse to have that on my conscience.”
Stephen huffed. “Fine, but he’d deserve it.” He paused again and studied Jon’s face. “Did anyone else say anything?”
Jon sighed. “Yeah. Rob called. Offered to have the guy offed too… though with him it’s a little more threatening seeing as he probably does have some sort of Irish mafia connections.” Jon paused. “Also, Dennis called and offered his help, which seems to be a bit too genuinely threatening as well.”
Stephen furrowed his brow. “Yeah… I for one would definitely not want to be on Leary’s bad side. He’s all lanky and scary… like a giant, pissed-off bird who probably is friends with more criminals than a Republican in office.”
Jon rolled his eyes but continued ticking off names. “Lewis called too, though I'm only assuming he was calling about Gibson since I couldn’t really understand anything he said save the word ‘fuck’ and ‘douchebag.’ I swear to God, the man sounds like he’s having a seizure sometimes when he’s that pissed. And then Steve left me a very sincere message. Sam came in and offered to either bake me cookies or kick Gibson’s ass.” Jon smiled again. “For having some obscure jackhole be a complete dick to me over something I did years ago, people sure are coming up in arms over it.”
“Well, I wonder why that could be?” Stephen asked, his voice becoming very serious. “Could it be because your speech was one of the single most genuine and heartfelt that was made post-9/11 and the guy is a total asshat for mocking something that was and still is pretty obviously important to a lot of people?”
Jon cocked his head and regarded Stephen’s flushed face. “You’re… you’re actually mad about this, aren’t you?”
Stephen shrugged, though he still looked angry. “Yeah. Can you blame me? The guy put down my good friend, esteemed colleague and brilliant boss. That speech… it touched a lot of people, Jon. I know you don’t like to take credit or that you somehow have deluded yourself into thinking that what you do isn’t important somehow but… but, God, it fucking is. Just… don’t be surprised that people are ‘up in arms’ as you say. They’re right. We’re all right to be pissed. The guys a raging heap of douche and you don’t deserve it, Jon. Especially not for that.”
Jon smiled down at his coffee cup, realizing that the Nation wasn’t only the one to suffer from intense loyalty. “Thank you, Stephen,” he murmured. “That… means a lot.”
After a moment of companionable silence, Stephen cleared his throat. “So… you’ll mention it on the show?”
“God… no, Stephen.”
“… You’ll let me mention it?”
“No.”
“And… I can’t kill him?”
“No.”
“So… we’re not going to do anything?”
Jon allowed a small but devious smile cross his face. “Well, there is a plan.”
Stephen leaned forward in excitement. “Ooh, what?”
“Well, you may have your Nation, but I’ve got the Jews. And, as a better-known Jew-“
“The best-known Jew,” Stephen corrected.
“Seinfeld wins that award. And Woody Allen. And Lenny Bruce. Jerry Lewis… The Marx Brothers… Bette Midler…”
“… Bette’s a Jew?”
“Um, duh. She’s as Jewy as Barbara Streisand.”
“Well, Streisand I can see. Did you know Paula Abdul is a Jew?”
“Seriously? God, we need to kick her out of the club.”
“Yeah, she’s to you guys like Ted Kennedy is to us. Or like David Hasselhoff is to the Germans.”
There was a pause. “So… may I continue?”
“Okay, fine, sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway, since Gibson insulted me and I’m one of the better-known Jews at this point in time, the Israelites are bound to be pissed. And what else are Jews besides comedians?”
“Uh… cheap?” Stephen answered innocently.
Jon just gave him a look. “No. They’re doctors. Or, as Dennis said, they’re all proctologists.”
Stephen’s mouth fell open. “Ooh,” he breathed.
“Yup. So John Gibson will just slowly die from the tumor the size of Milwaukee growing on his colon that Doctor Lieberman somehow missed.”
“… You are pure evil,” Stephen murmured in awe after a moment. “An evil genius.”
“I’m not the one who was going to set rabid fangirls on him,” Jon retorted. “Actually… I think my way might be more humane.”
Stephen snorted. “Yeah, when is a slow, cancerous death not humane?”
Jon just smiled back sweetly, before turning his attention back to his work. “Okay, so are you satisfied or is this little conversation going to keep on going? Some of us need to get to work.” He paused and raised an eyebrow.
Stephen threw up his hands and rose from the chair, crossing the room in a few strides. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll get out of your hair. But first… are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to kill him?”
Jon didn’t even look up. “Stephen.”
“Okay, okay.” Stephen continued to back out the door. “But… I’m going to have to insist you mention it on your show.”
“Stephen…”
“If you don’t,” Stephen raised a warning finger, “I will mention him as being Dead to Me and then he will be dead to EVERYONE because the fandom will murder him.”
“Fine!” Jon laughed. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask,” Stephen said as he bowed in the doorway. “See you later. Just remember,” he called as he started to jog down the hall, “DEAD. TO. ME.”
Jon just shook his head and continued on with his paperwork before pausing. Maybe Stephen was right… maybe he should mention it…
“Goddamnit,” he finally muttered, crumpling up a piece of paper as he realized Stephen had won. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Fucking wonky-eared mind ninja.”
FIN.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
Author: Yours truly
Fandom: The Daily Show
Pairing: Jon/Stephen (friend-shippy)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warning: This isn’t really crack… it’s more just an exposition of my anger.
A/N: So I conceived, wrote, and edited this all when very tired/annoyed. But, since it’s pretty dern topical and I’m moving tomorrow (as well as the fact that I’ve put out shittier stories than this before without a second thought), I’m posting tonight. HUZZAH! If you don’t know what I’m referring to, here’s an article/video of John Gibson being a total asshat and Jon’s response.
Length: 1809
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated. Also, concrit is very welcome.
Summary:
JOHN GIBSON IS A TOTAL ASSHAT
“So… want me to kill him for you?”
Jon was startled from his paperwork and looked up quickly to see Stephen in the doorway. “Jesus, Stephen. You scared me. What are you doing here? It’s only…” He glanced at his watch. “8:30. Our meeting isn’t until 10.”
“I know. We only have one every day. You still haven’t answered me yet: do you want me to kill him?”
Jon looked at Stephen from where he now sat across from him. “Stephen, it’s too early for you to be this obtuse.”
“It’s also waaaay too early to be using words like ‘obtuse,’” Stephen shot back. “Anyway, I wanted to catch you early enough in the day since I need you to be in the right kind of mood for what I’m asking.” He gave Jon an appraising look up and down. “Judging by the expression on your face, you must be on your second coffee which means you’re a.) mostly coherent yet b.) still vaguely murderous, thus making your attitude the perfect emotional cocktail. So, again: do you want me to kill him?”
Jon just shook his head slowly before rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. “Kill who?” he asked, puzzled.
Stephen just gave him a look; tilting his head forward a little, he raised both eyebrows and stared at Jon expectantly.
Jon suddenly understood what was being hinted at. “So I gather you heard about my new-found popularity on Fox?” he asked dryly.
Stephen leaned back in his chair, wrapping his arms over his chest and draping his ankle over one knee. “Yup. I read about it on the interwebs in one of my daily egocentric googlings of myself.”
“My name turns up when you search your name?” Jon asked, his interest piqued.
“Well…” Stephen let an embarrassed smile crossing his face. “I may have googled you.” Jon snorted out a laugh but refrained from making the obvious inappropriate comment. “But, you know, I only do it because then I get to see if anything that links your name to mine shows up.”
Jon smirked. “Uh huh, of course.”
“Oh, I also saw it on Olbermann’s show.”
“Really? He covered that?”
“Yup. Named the guy the Worst Person of the night.”
“So you were just watching and he happened to mention it?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“… I always kind of forget you have such a hard on for him.”
Stephen gave Jon a dreamy look. “Of course, Jon. The man reeks of brawny power. I probably have even more of a hard on for him now, given the coverage he gave the story.”
“Indignant as ever, I assume?”
“Rightly so. And that brings me back to my original question: do you want me to kill him?”
“Olbermann?”
“…You know who I mean, Jon.”
Jon sighed. “No, Stephen. I don’t want you to kill him. I couldn’t live with the guilt if you went to prison. You’re way too pretty to go un-deflowered.”
Stephen smirked. “Well, thank you, but you forget that when I say ‘do you want me to kill him’ I really mean ‘do you want me to get my people to kill him’?”
“’Your people’? Who the hell are your people? A bunch of angry Irish Catholics?”
“Actually… that probably would work, but no.” Stephen paused for dramatic effect. Or was it just the gravitas talking? “The Nation, Jon,” he said sagely. “One word, one raise of the eyebrow, one wag of my finger, and… the problem will be taken care of.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m talking to the don of a very creepy and way too out of control mob?”
“Because the Colbert Nation knows a lot about loyalty, Jonathan. Loyalty is key to the Nation. And nobody mocks my token Jew. Nobody.”
Jon smirked again and settled into his chair. “No, Stephen.”
And, just like that, the gravitas was gone. “Come on, Jon,” Stephen whined. “I’ll just mention it on the show! Act a little incensed… then the problem will just… resolve itself.”
“No, Stephen.”
Stephen huffed a little. “You are absolutely no fun at all.”
Jon smiled, feeling tired. “Yeah, well, sorry. I’m also your token Wet Blanket.” He began to fidget with the bobblehead on his desk. “So… they’re talking about it on the internet?”
“Oh, man.” Stephen bounced up and down in his seat, looking excited. “They are pissed. I’ve never seen the word 'asshat' used so many times.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word, but okay.” Jon smiled quietly. “So… no one’s been saying, ‘oh, man, Gibson’s sooo right, Jon Stewart is a fucking moron’?”
Stephen grinned. “Not any more so than usual. Has Tracey seen or heard it?”
Sighing, Jon began doodling on the paper before him. “Unfortunately yes. I’ve never heard the words ‘fucking cuntbag’ used that much at once. It was actually pretty impressive.”
Stephen laughed outright. “Oh, Tracey. Impressive is a good word for her. Has anyone else mentioned anything?”
“Uh… a couple of the writers have dropped in. They want to write it into the show.”
“Are you gonna let them?”
“Eh… I don’t think so.”
“Jon. Why?”
“I don’t know… it just seems to be playing into his hands, you know? I don’t want to give him the fucking satisfaction.”
“Well, if you burn him badly enough, it won’t be satisfying. Except for you. And, well… most of the rational world, come to think of it.”
“Still… I don’t think so.”
“Okay, fine. At least let me talk about it then!”
“Stephen, no. The last thing I need is for a mob to storm John Gibson’s house and take him hostage before stringing him up with American flags. Or force-feeding him to eagles. I refuse to have that on my conscience.”
Stephen huffed. “Fine, but he’d deserve it.” He paused again and studied Jon’s face. “Did anyone else say anything?”
Jon sighed. “Yeah. Rob called. Offered to have the guy offed too… though with him it’s a little more threatening seeing as he probably does have some sort of Irish mafia connections.” Jon paused. “Also, Dennis called and offered his help, which seems to be a bit too genuinely threatening as well.”
Stephen furrowed his brow. “Yeah… I for one would definitely not want to be on Leary’s bad side. He’s all lanky and scary… like a giant, pissed-off bird who probably is friends with more criminals than a Republican in office.”
Jon rolled his eyes but continued ticking off names. “Lewis called too, though I'm only assuming he was calling about Gibson since I couldn’t really understand anything he said save the word ‘fuck’ and ‘douchebag.’ I swear to God, the man sounds like he’s having a seizure sometimes when he’s that pissed. And then Steve left me a very sincere message. Sam came in and offered to either bake me cookies or kick Gibson’s ass.” Jon smiled again. “For having some obscure jackhole be a complete dick to me over something I did years ago, people sure are coming up in arms over it.”
“Well, I wonder why that could be?” Stephen asked, his voice becoming very serious. “Could it be because your speech was one of the single most genuine and heartfelt that was made post-9/11 and the guy is a total asshat for mocking something that was and still is pretty obviously important to a lot of people?”
Jon cocked his head and regarded Stephen’s flushed face. “You’re… you’re actually mad about this, aren’t you?”
Stephen shrugged, though he still looked angry. “Yeah. Can you blame me? The guy put down my good friend, esteemed colleague and brilliant boss. That speech… it touched a lot of people, Jon. I know you don’t like to take credit or that you somehow have deluded yourself into thinking that what you do isn’t important somehow but… but, God, it fucking is. Just… don’t be surprised that people are ‘up in arms’ as you say. They’re right. We’re all right to be pissed. The guys a raging heap of douche and you don’t deserve it, Jon. Especially not for that.”
Jon smiled down at his coffee cup, realizing that the Nation wasn’t only the one to suffer from intense loyalty. “Thank you, Stephen,” he murmured. “That… means a lot.”
After a moment of companionable silence, Stephen cleared his throat. “So… you’ll mention it on the show?”
“God… no, Stephen.”
“… You’ll let me mention it?”
“No.”
“And… I can’t kill him?”
“No.”
“So… we’re not going to do anything?”
Jon allowed a small but devious smile cross his face. “Well, there is a plan.”
Stephen leaned forward in excitement. “Ooh, what?”
“Well, you may have your Nation, but I’ve got the Jews. And, as a better-known Jew-“
“The best-known Jew,” Stephen corrected.
“Seinfeld wins that award. And Woody Allen. And Lenny Bruce. Jerry Lewis… The Marx Brothers… Bette Midler…”
“… Bette’s a Jew?”
“Um, duh. She’s as Jewy as Barbara Streisand.”
“Well, Streisand I can see. Did you know Paula Abdul is a Jew?”
“Seriously? God, we need to kick her out of the club.”
“Yeah, she’s to you guys like Ted Kennedy is to us. Or like David Hasselhoff is to the Germans.”
There was a pause. “So… may I continue?”
“Okay, fine, sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway, since Gibson insulted me and I’m one of the better-known Jews at this point in time, the Israelites are bound to be pissed. And what else are Jews besides comedians?”
“Uh… cheap?” Stephen answered innocently.
Jon just gave him a look. “No. They’re doctors. Or, as Dennis said, they’re all proctologists.”
Stephen’s mouth fell open. “Ooh,” he breathed.
“Yup. So John Gibson will just slowly die from the tumor the size of Milwaukee growing on his colon that Doctor Lieberman somehow missed.”
“… You are pure evil,” Stephen murmured in awe after a moment. “An evil genius.”
“I’m not the one who was going to set rabid fangirls on him,” Jon retorted. “Actually… I think my way might be more humane.”
Stephen snorted. “Yeah, when is a slow, cancerous death not humane?”
Jon just smiled back sweetly, before turning his attention back to his work. “Okay, so are you satisfied or is this little conversation going to keep on going? Some of us need to get to work.” He paused and raised an eyebrow.
Stephen threw up his hands and rose from the chair, crossing the room in a few strides. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll get out of your hair. But first… are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to kill him?”
Jon didn’t even look up. “Stephen.”
“Okay, okay.” Stephen continued to back out the door. “But… I’m going to have to insist you mention it on your show.”
“Stephen…”
“If you don’t,” Stephen raised a warning finger, “I will mention him as being Dead to Me and then he will be dead to EVERYONE because the fandom will murder him.”
“Fine!” Jon laughed. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask,” Stephen said as he bowed in the doorway. “See you later. Just remember,” he called as he started to jog down the hall, “DEAD. TO. ME.”
Jon just shook his head and continued on with his paperwork before pausing. Maybe Stephen was right… maybe he should mention it…
“Goddamnit,” he finally muttered, crumpling up a piece of paper as he realized Stephen had won. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Fucking wonky-eared mind ninja.”
FIN.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', 'Viacom', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976 and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.