Ask the Best & Brightest: How Much Hell Do You Want Unleashed, Anyway?

It’s been a bit of a meta-critical and navel-gazing week or so here at TTAC. We’ve been reviewed and discussed by other media sources, we’ve reviewed and discussed a few media sources ourselves, and we’ve even had a delightful piece by Brendan McAleer which sort of reviews our own reviews of someone else’s review of us.

It’s safe to say that we will probably be taking a break from this sort of thing for a while so that we can bring you some more of the authentic TTAC content you’ve come to know and love. Clinical, yet strangely erotic, descriptions of trunk space. Callous disregard for human decency in the last of the Ford full-sizers. Chinese business news. That sort of thing.

Fortunately or unfortunately, however, we will continue to encounter “content” from our colleagues in the business which is mendaciously conceived, shamelessly produced, and incompetently edited. Which leads me to my question:

There are few things I personally enjoy more than absolutely flame-broiling some buffalo-esque, brown-baggy-pants-wearing, buffet-browsing media-beast. I was born for it, and I don’t care if everybody I meet at every press launch from now until the end of time hates my guts as a result. There’s a long list of potential candidates for horse-whipping in my old-fashioned Franklin Planner and I’m willing to metaphorically re-enact various torture scenes from “Hostel” with each one of them. Payoffs will be exposed. Press-release-rewriting will be discussed in devastating detail. Shuffle-steerers will be flogged.

At your signal, I will unleash hell…

…which means I need to hear that signal from you. Do you want a meta-critical piece once a week? Once a month? Never ever again? Do you want me to find out who’s taking free cars behind the scenes? Do you want to know about the guy who claims to be driving at the limit in his articles but in reality saves his most devastating work for the breakfast bar?

Perhaps you’d like to see some stunts. I could buy an old Ford Tempo automatic, mount a GoPro on the bumper, and insert myself into the next supercar press event driving loop to cause chaos. I could pretend to be a writer for an in-flight magazine and see how many outrageous bribes I can have shipped to a Vegas hotel room. I could smoke out a monster Town Car donut in the middle of the street, right in front of a major manufacturer’s dinner event, while journalists literally cower in fear behind the party shuttles. Wait. I already did that. Okay. I’ll think of some other stuff.

You, the reader, are in charge. If you want me to leave Dutch Mandel alone, we’ll do it. If you want everything he writes from today until eternity subjected to the most blistering criticism possible, we can do that, too.

Just give the word. Or, failing that, give your opinion!