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Feature Story August 10, 2001
By Matt Taibbi Browse author
Page 3 of 9
But Nolle's crowning achievement as a salesman comes in his skill in maneuvering his way into the pages of major media publications like the Los Angeles Times and the Economist. He obviously works extremely hard at crafting the image of the all-knowing CEO, respected by the most exalted scribes of the pop business press. Only sometimes, he goes a little too far, as Jake found out. On one page of his site, he invites reporters to make use of a selection of photos of "our CEO, Thomas Nolle", and the subsequent click-through results in a display of four professionally-rendered photo portraits of the great man, all offered in a variety of pixel sizes, in case a publication happened to want to put him on its cover (we were to enthusiastically take advantage of this peculiar generosity towards reporters). These were the pictures Jake showed us...

"Guys," he said. "You've got to see this."

Heisel and I crept over to his laptop to take a look, and were transformed at once by the experience. All thoughts of a Zaporozhets lead vanished instantly. The sight of this Hitleresque, toupee-clad snake-oil egotist smiling nervously against a cheap silver photo backdrop -- the kind used in public-school student portraits -- commanded us to action. We all immediately understood that the whole issue had to be devoted to harassment of this preposterous individual on a massive scale. The full power of the eXile battle station had to be trained on this person without delay; we had 36 hours until deadline, but we were determined to cause as much damage as possible, by means both legal and illegal, really, by any means necessary.

There will be some readers who will be confused by the catalogue of abuse which follows later in this article. Why, one might argue, devote so much energy to attacking such a petty, insignificant figure? But to us, this argument is its own answer. It is precisely Nolle's pettiness and insignificance which commands such a monstrous response. The more we learned about him, the more he appeared as a slithering, slavish little cog in a great machine, still desperate and grasping despite all his attempts to please; he loves the machine while the machine hates him, and pays him the most niggardly rewards for his attentions; the machine is strong and confident and has self-respect, while Nolle, with his photos and his snake-oil sales pitches, has none.

But the machine cannot exist without the Nolles of the world. The court needs its courtiers. In other words, Nolle might be petty and small, but he is a military target. And one we could handle. So we took off the gloves and went to work.

Nolle's market value as an aging bear was next to nothing in America, but some Russians will send anyone a photo in exchange for a Green Card

The first wave of attack was the cover fire; standard forms of long-distance harassment, only applied in excessive amounts. Nixon's people called this stuff "ratfucking" -- waves of unsolicited pizza deliveries, beefy orders of groceries and kitchen cleaners from the local Shop Rite, libelous and harassing letters and calls to neighbors and colleagues. Nixon never had the good fortune to live in the internet age, particularly the e-commerce age Nolle praises so relentlessly in his columns and press releases. If he had, he would have known a whole new world of effective ratfucking, one that includes spam, porn site registrations, the posting of internet personal ads, the malevolent use of online shopping opportunities... We ordered pizzas to be delivered to Nolle's house from virtually every pizza shop in the Voorhees area. The bill from Papa John's alone ran to over $78, and, as we subsequently learned, Nolle actually ended up buying those pizzas. The four pizzas we ordered from Domino's Nolle angrily sent back. Every e-mail address listed on Nolle's site, including Linda's, was registered to a variety of porn e-mail delivery services. Worse than that, we signed him up for the infinitely more-annoying mailing lists of news services like CNN, clicking every box available ("Do you want a. Financial News updates? Sports news?, etc., etc..."). Yes, yes, yes, to every

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Dangerous Liaisons: Drugged & Robbed in Moscow :

Serfin' USA: Duped Russkies :

Taxi Driver: Gypsy Cab Confessions in Moscow :
One Day In The Life of Alina (or 24 Hours in a Kiosk) :


Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
Club Review By Dmitriy Babooshka
eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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