If you want to know what happened to Michael Hastings, you need to find out who he was hanging out with in the final week or so before that crash, and you especially need to look at why he was out on the streets of L.A. at 4 a.m. Had he been to a nightclub? Had he been to a party?
Had he been hooking up with call girls or strippers?
Was he abusing alcohol, amphetamines, cocaine?
Maybe I’ve missed something in the past two months. Maybe some mainstream reporter or one of Hastings’ left-wing buddies has told the story of why he was out on the streets at 4 a.m., but I don’t think so. No, I think that there is not a deliberate cover-up, but rather an embarrassed silence among the friends of Michael Hastings who know the real truth: He had a paranoid breakdown, or went off on a binge, or both.
They don’t won’t to admit their buddy freaked out, see? They want Michael Hastings to be remembered as a courageous journalistic hero, and so none of his friends are interested in telling the truth.
Conspiracy theories about Michael Hastings’ death gain traction because his liberal journalist friends are afraid to report the truth.
They should be ashamed of themselves.
Or, or – maybe he was gay. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the ticket. His demonic gayness caused him to drive down an LA street at 100 mph at four in the morning. Obviously he was driving home from a gay bar, or cruising for twelve year old boys on whom to slake his insatiable gay lust.
Why are none of his liberal journalist friends interested in telling the truth?
They should be ashamed of themselves. Well, somebody should be.