Why do I bother trying to do serious journalism, anyway?
This post, in which I reported my discovery of a 2004 obit for one Robin Gunningham of Bristol (the same name and town of the person identified as, possibly, the elusive guerilla artist, Banksy) is, at this writing, Number One on the Google hit parade that appears when you search, “Robin Gunningham.” (The implication of my discovery is that the cunning Gunningham name-dropper could be a hoaxster, meaning that the true identity of Banksy remains secret.)
I’m not aware of anyone in the mainstream media picking this up. Even Time magazine seems to have bought the far-from-convincing story that originated in London’s Mail on Sunday. But there sure has been a lot of Internet buzz created by my little piece of digital detective work. (Suspecting identity theft, I went straight to the high-numbered Google search pages for Gunningham, and came upon the late, lamented Robin.)
You would not believe how much blog traffic is coming to me because of this throwaway item. No one cares a jot about Tadao Ando’s concrete or Michael Conforti’s antiquities analysis.
What am I doing here? I’ve learned my lesson.
COMING NEXT: Larry Gagosian unmasked: He is Steve Martin. (Just kidding.)
