Alexander Rhodes, the founder of the pornography addiction self-help group NoFap and repeat plaintiff, sued the parent company of Pornhub, Aylo, along with the University of California Los Angeles, two scientists, and an academic publisher for defamation. Filed in a court of common pleas in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, and since removed to federal court by the defendants, the suit has gone under the radar by most news outlets.
I wrote for one of my publishers about the lawsuit but little coverage has picked it up. I hope that changes in the coming months as litigation advances in the case.
The lawsuit alleges a civil conspiracy bankrolled by Aylo to defame Rhodes and NoFap. Rhodes is a divisive figure in the wider anti-porn discussion as he believes that breaking “pornography addiction,” (which is not an accepted diagnosis in the DSM-5) requires participants to not engage in masturbation or watching pornography in a bid to “reboot” their brains. The theory is not supported by most science.
Nonetheless, he and his movement have gained traction over the years. Some sexual health experts started to scrutinize the claims of the NoFap philosophy as well as its supposed scientific basis. Because there has been some research pushing back on some of NoFap’s claims, lawyers for Rhodes claims it is proof of organized and explicit coordination to defame him. According to the lawsuit, Aylo is supposedly at the center of this scheme and allegedly paid off two scientists who have published critical research on NoFap. Furthermore, the complaint argues that UCLA and the academic publisher Taylor & Francis engaged in this defamation scheme by “aiding and abetting” the pair of scientists and Aylo by publishing the research.
This is a very weird lawsuit.
But what makes it weirder and more alarming than it is stems from the narrative pushed by the plaintiffs. In a bid to demonstrate the conspiracy, Rhodes presents a theory that the scientists and Aylo actively engaged in media pitches to dozens of journalists and other media personalities, including myself, to advance messages that disparage the NoFap company and its founder. Companies doing media pitches happen every day. Media pitches do not make anything into a conspiracy.
According to this theory, Rhodes alleges a coordinated media narrative that advances Aylo’s interests with the supposed end goal of… silencing this random dude who makes money off of telling people not to watch porn and jerk off. Even though Rhodes has the right to believe and communicate what he believes, it is quite a reach to insist that research and criticism of his beliefs and movement, including bog standard press coverage, amount to a conspiracy to defame.
Having people review strong claims is part of how academic research works. Having the media cover that research happens every day. It is silly to conclude that this turns it into a conspiracy.
And this week, Rhodes ramped things up a notch by claiming not just your garden variety conspiracy, but a RICO claim. Rather than go into the details of that, we’ll just point you to an archive of Ken White’s lawsplainer: IT’S NOT RICO, DAMMIT.
His lawyers mention about 38 people who have written or tried to write about NoFap and Rhodes in a negative light. Their coverage has been almost entirely critical of his claims. For example, my writing on NoFap has been critical in the context that it pushes and reinforces anti-pornography sentiments among social conservative groups and is a constituent faction of the so-called online manosphere. I have heard that some publishers of mine have been served up threats of legal action and/or retraction demands for my reporting and analysis about these groups.
Other journalists, like Gustavo Turner, have written on some of the more outlandish claims of so-called porn induced erectile dysfunction (PIED). PIED is not an official diagnosis, and is more likely to be related to underlying issues as pornography is wholly unlikely to contribute to erectile dysfunction among men. Turner was called a “collaborator” against Rhodes in the suit, even though Turner has never directly written about him, and defamation has to be of and about someone specifically. The article linked above, which is also mentioned in the lawsuit does not discuss Rhodes and only mentions “NoFap” in the context of a hashtag “phenomena,” not having anything to do with Rhodes’ organization specifically.
Others mentioned in the lawsuit include authors with bylines at other outlets like Salon, Rolling Stone, Vice, and many others. He mentions “disparaging” media communicated by LGBTQ+ figures like Dan Savage of the Savage Love podcast because Savage hosted one of the defendants on his podcast talking about her research.
The lawsuit is quite expansive.
While I am not a defendant in the case, I still feel that listing out the simple mentioning of Rhodes’ critics as part of the grand conspiracy is a form of intimidation. It’s not as direct, but Rhodes appears to be trying to put on notice those who scrutinize the claims he makes that they could be the next defendant added.
This chills speech and reporting on more than just Rhodes and NoFap. It speaks to wider sentiments in today’s culture about how the courts can be a weapon to censor journalists from doing their jobs.
Already I have heard from journalists who claim that publications are rejecting pitches about Rhodes and NoFap, with the implication being that the publications are worried about litigation threats for merely writing about him. It feels like a classic case of chilling effects via a SLAPP suit, and it’s why anti-SLAPP laws are so important.
What is ironic is that Rhodes accuses the defendants in this case of intimidation: buying off journalists and the very outlets they allege advances the talking points of an organized civil conspiracy against his business and personage. Journalists aren’t a part of the conspiracy. They’re just reporting on what’s happening, and sometimes that includes research results. And, yes, sometimes that includes criticism of companies like Aylo for bad things they’ve done as well. Because journalists are reporting the news, not engaged in a grand conspiracy.
A thoughtful, reasonable, reflective person might take the time to personally reflect on why so many articles question the narrative he’s pushing. Others, however, might just claim a conspiracy against them.
Michael McGrady covers the tech and legal sides of the online porn business.
President Trump, who keeps pretending he’s for free speech, but who has filed more defamation lawsuits against more media organizations than any president in history (combined), has done so again. This time, he has sued the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) in Florida (naturally). For context: the only other president to come anywhere close was Teddy Roosevelt, who sued a Michigan newspaper for calling him a drunk—and that was while campaigning as an ex-president, not while actually holding office.
At issue was a BBC Panorama documentary about January 6th, in which there is (at worst) a slightly awkward edit: two separate sentences of Trump’s speech were shown one after another, despite being separated by over half an hour of Trumpian ramblings. The original claim was that this edit somehow changed the meaning of what Trump said, though in the past few days, Trump has been falsely claiming that the documentary used AI to make him say things he didn’t say.
The lawsuit makes zero mention of AI. Instead, it claims that they edited the two sentences together in a way that was misleading.
The lawsuit isn’t a surprise. He’s been talking about this for a few weeks now, even though (1) the BBC did nothing wrong, (2) the BBC still apologized, (3) the BBC effectively fired those who did the controversial edit, (4) the BBC has promised never to show the documentary again, and (5) the BBC has since bent over backwards to portray Trump positively.
The suit “does not have any legal basis, either on defamation or jurisdictional grounds,” said Bob Corn-Revere, chief counsel at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression.
“This is nothing more than the president’s latest effort to intimidate media companies that he sees as adversarial to his administration,” he said.
As he notes, the first hurdle is going to be the jurisdiction. Suing in Florida is a choice, given that the BBC only showed the documentary in the UK, not anywhere in the US, let alone Florida. Showing that the documentary somehow harmed Trump’s reputation in Florida will be virtually impossible if it actually got to that point (which it won’t).
The complaint tries to get around this by—I shit you not—claiming that because VPN usage is up in Florida, it likely means people are using VPNs in Florida to appear to be in the UK in order to watch BBC streams that are geo-locked to the UK. No, really:
According to vpnMentor, a VPN research firm, VPN usage in Florida has skyrocketed since 2024, with a 51% increase in demand on December 19, 2024, and an over 1,000% increase in VPN usage at the beginning of 2025.
Florida streamers have opted to use VPNs to increase their “streaming freedom.” Among the most popular streaming services accessed by viewers using a VPN is BBC’s online streaming platform, BBC iPlayer.
To that end, an article published by Tom’s Guide, a reputable technology news outlet, revealed that a VPN usage survey showed that approximately 41% of VPN subscribers use the service to stream content, citing BBC iPlayer as an example of what a VPN subscriber could view using a VPN.
The Panorama Documentary’s publicity, coupled with significant increases in VPN usage in Florida since its debut, establishes the immense likelihood that citizens of Florida accessed the Documentary before the BBC had it removed.
That is the kind of argument that should get a lawyer sanctioned.
Then there’s the actual malice part of this. It’s unlikely that Trump can show actual malice here, since (as a public figure) that would require showing that the BBC knew this was “false” or that they ignored evidence of the falsity of the statement. But that’s a problem since it wasn’t false. Florida is a state that recognizes a version of “defamation by implication,” in which true statements presented in a way that implies a defamatory fact can still be defamation, but it’s difficult to see how this edit rises to the necessary level, which would require the BBC to have deliberately decided to misrepresent the facts in this way.
The supposed smoking gun in the lawsuit is an internal memo that was made public recently, in which some employees raised concerns about the edit, which the lawsuit uses in its weak attempt to manufacture actual malice.
As set forth in a damning and recently leaked BBC internal whistleblower document, the BBC intentionally used the Panorama Documentary to maliciously, falsely, and defamatorily make it appear that President Trump explicitly called for violent action and rioting, and that he “said something he did not,” by splicing together footage from the start of the Speech with a separate quote that he said nearly 55 minutes later, while omitting his statement calling for peace, made less than one minute after his first statement urging supports to cheer their senators and congressmen at the Capitol. Such distortion of the President’s speech by the BBC “materially misled viewers.”
Here’s the problem with that theory: Internal editorial debate about whether an edit works is not evidence of actual malice under its legal definition. It’s evidence of editorial standards. If anything, it shows the BBC was wrestling with how to responsibly present the material—the opposite of reckless disregard for the truth. Trump’s lawyers are trying to weaponize normal journalistic process as proof of bad faith, which is both legally nonsensical and a chilling attack on newsroom deliberation.
There’s a separate issue in Florida, as well, which is that Florida defamation law gives news orgs the ability to limit the damages to “actual damages” by issuing a correction, an apology, or a retraction. And the BBC has, in fact, issued an apology (unnecessarily). This alone should cap any potential damages at actual harm suffered, which would be… what exactly? Trump won the election. His reputation, to the extent it can be harmed by accurately showing his own words about January 6th, certainly wasn’t damaged enough to cost him anything measurable. The man is president.
Oh, I guess we should mention, just for the sake of laughing at it, Trump is actually demanding a very Dr. Evil like “$10 billion” for an edit of a single TV program not shown in the US and which did no actual damage to his reputation.
Still, like nearly all of Donald Trump’s SLAPP suits, the point is not to win the lawsuit. Rather it’s to continue the same streak of intimidation tactics that he’s done for years. He sues media properties on no basis whatsoever, knowing that it causes not just the media targets of his lawsuits to be a lot less willing to report on the president’s words and actions in the future, but also scares others into silence as well.
Donald Trump is a serial filer of SLAPP suits, which serve no purpose other than to intimidate the media away from reporting negatively on him. It is just one of many reasons that he is the most censorial president ever. Hopefully the courts drop kick this case off the docket in record time.
We’ve spent yearscalling out what a hypocrite Elon Musk is on free speech. But sometimes the universe Elon hands you a gift: three tweets in the span of a little over a week that demonstrate the entire con more clearly than any deep dive ever could. Let’s start with this one:
That’s Elon announcing that:
Falsely labeling non-violent people as “fascist” or “Nazi” should be treated as incitement to murder
Which is, to be clear, an extreme anti-free speech position. It’s an extremely censorial stance.
Statements indicating a political opponent is a Nazi or coward are “odious and repugnant” and far too common in today’s political discourse. But they are not actionable defamation “because of the tremendous imprecision of the meaning and usage of such terms in the realm of political debate.” In other words, being called a Nazi or coward are not verifiable statements of fact that would support a defamation claim
So, already, we see that Elon is taking an anti-free speech stance with that tweet. Political hyperbole, even of the Nazi-calling variety, is protected speech. Always has been.
Now keep that tweet in mind as we head into the next one.
Because over the weekend… Elon Musk pretty clearly falsely called the EU Commission (which just fined him)… Nazis.
If you can’t see that, it’s Elon retweeting someone who posted an image of the EU flag being pulled back to reveal a Nazi flag. The original poster says “The Fourth Reich” and Elon’s quote tweet says: “Pretty much.”
So, let’s recap: falsely calling non-violent people Nazis is, according to Elon, “incitement to murder” and yet here he is… falsely calling non-violent people Nazis. Just a week after that original statement.
And then there’s the third act that ties it all together. I know he’s said this one before in similar forms, but this weekend he also claimed that the “Surefire way to figure out who the bad guys are is by looking who wants to restrict freedom of speech.”
So, uh, yeah. Just a week after Elon says that labeling a non-violent person a Nazi should be considered “incitement to murder” (an inherent attempt to suppress speech of critics), he claims that the easiest way to figure out who are “the bad guys” is to see who wants to suppress speech.
According to Elon’s own standard: he is the bad guy. He is saying that we should suppress speech of those who call him a Nazi. And therefore, he is a bad guy. By his own logic.
The pattern is obvious. Elon’s entire incoherent “free speech” framework collapses into a single, coherent principle: speech I like is protected, speech I don’t like should be punished. He wants the freedom to call the EU Commission Nazis. He wants to criminalize anyone who calls him one. He proclaims that those who restrict speech are “the bad guys” while simultaneously arguing that calling him a Nazi should be treated as incitement to murder—a severe restriction on speech. And when he or his allies do actual Nazi-like things? Well, you better not mention it, or you’re inciting violence.
This is what happens when someone who has never understood the actual principles of free speech tries to cosplay as a free speech absolutist. The mask doesn’t just slip—it falls off entirely, and all that’s left is the naked self-interest underneath.
It’s taken another two years, but the Eleventh Circuit has upheld that lower court dismissal, and done so in a simple 8-page per curiam opinion from a panel that includes two Trump-appointed judges: Elizabeth Branch and Kevin Newsom. The fact that even Trump’s own judicial appointees unanimously rejected his claims demolishes any narrative that this case had merit or that “biased” courts are persecuting him. This was simply a loser case that never should have been brought.
The appeals court’s analysis cuts straight to the heart of why Trump’s lawsuit was doomed from the start. The term “Big Lie” isn’t a factual claim that can be proven true or false—it’s CNN’s characterization of Trump’s conduct, protected opinion under the First Amendment.
Trump’s argument is unpersuasive. First, although he concedes that CNN’s use of the term “Big Lie” is, to some extent, ambiguous, he assumes that it is unambiguous enough to constitute a statement of fact. This assumption is untenable. Although we haven’t squarely addressed the point, case law from other circuits is persuasive. In Buckley v. Littell, 539 F.2d 882 (2d Cir. 1976), cert. denied, 429 U.S. 1062 (1977), the Second Circuit held that, by using the terms “fascist,” “fellow traveler,” and “radical right” to describe William F. Buckley, Jr., the defendant was not publishing “statements of fact.” Buckley, 539 F.2d at 893. Rather, the court ruled, the terms were “so debatable, loose and varying[] that they [we]re insusceptible to proof of truth or falsity.” Id. at 894. Similarly, in Ollman v. Evans, 750 F.2d 970 (D.C. Cir. 1984) (en banc), cert. denied, 471 U.S. 1127 (1985), the D.C. Circuit held that when the defendant called the plaintiff “an outspoken proponent of political Marxism,” his statement was “obviously unverifiable.” Ollman, 750 F.2d at 987. Trump argues that the term “Big Lie” is less ambiguous than the terms “fascist,” “fellow traveler,” “radical right,” and “outspoken proponent of political Marxism.” But he does not explain this assertion. If “fascist”—a term that is, by definition, political—is ambiguous, then it follows that “Big Lie”—a term that is facially apolitical—is at least as ambiguous.
The court’s comparison to terms like “fascist” and “fellow traveler” is particularly damaging to Trump’s case. If calling William F. Buckley Jr. a “fascist” constitutes protected opinion rather than actionable defamation, then CNN’s characterization of Trump’s election claims as a “Big Lie” clearly falls on the same side of the line. The panel essentially argues that Trump wants special protection from political criticism that no other public figure enjoys.
Second, Trump’s argument hinges on the fact that his own interpretation of his conduct—i.e., that he was exercising a constitutional right to identify his concerns with the integrity of elections—is true and that CNN’s interpretation—i.e., that Trump was peddling his “Big Lie”—is false. However, his conduct is susceptible to multiple subjective interpretations, including CNN’s.
Trump’s lawyers apparently thought they had found a silver bullet in the sheer volume of CNN’s coverage, arguing that more instances of the phrase somehow transformed opinion into defamation. The appeals court wasn’t buying it. If the thing is protected opinion five times, it’s protected opinion 10,000 times. It’s just speech.
Trump’s other arguments are likewise meritless. He argues that the district court erred in limiting its analysis to the five defamatory statements that he listed in his complaint. According to Trump, the district court should have also analyzed the “more than sixty instances of defamation set forth in the Notice Letter to CNN” and the “nearly 7,700 instances in which CNN had defamed Plaintiff with the ‘Big Lie’ allegation.” Brief of Appellant at 18. Trump has not alleged that any of these “instances of defamation” refer to something other than CNN’s use of “Big Lie.” We have held that, by using “Big Lie” to describe Trump, CNN was not publishing a false statement of fact. Therefore, whether CNN used “Big Lie” one time or many is irrelevant to the question of falsity.
This logic-chopping attempt reveals the fundamental weakness of Trump’s entire approach. He’s essentially arguing that repeating a protected opinion enough times magically transforms it into actionable defamation—a legal theory with no basis in the First Amendment whatsoever.
Trump, whose lawyers appeared to throw every possible argument at the court, also claimed that the lower court’s denial of his attempt to amend the lawsuit and try again was an abuse of the court’s discretion. The appeals court explains to Trump’s lawyers, that’s not how any of this actually works.
Trump argues that, when the district court denied his motion for leave to amend, it applied a standard that was too strict. Essential to his argument is his claim that the district court did not issue a judgment when it dismissed his complaint with prejudice. “In these circumstances,” Trump argues, “leave to amend should have been ‘granted liberally.’” Brief of Appellant at 41 (quoting Czeremcha v. International Ass’n of Machinists and Aerospace Workers, AFL-CIO, 724 F.2d 1552, 1556 & n. 6 (11th Cir. 1984)). But Trump overlooks that, in its order, the district court indicated that “dismissal of the complaint constituted dismissal of the action.” Id. After dismissing Trump’s complaint with prejudice, the court stated that “[t]he Clerk of Court is directed to CLOSE this case and DENY AS MOOT any pending motions.” Trump, 684 F. Supp. 3d at 1277. Therefore, the district court did not abuse its discretion in denying Trump’s motion for leave to amend.
Nor did the district court abuse its discretion in denying Trump’s motion for reconsideration under Rule 59. Trump asserts that the district court (1) “fail[ed] to consider the entirety of the circumstances surrounding CNN’s publication of the challenged statements” and (2) “appeared to reframe its understanding of [the clear error] standard in a manner unrelated to the case.” Brief of Appellant at 51–52, 55). “The only grounds for granting [a Rule 59] motion are newly-discovered evidence or manifest errors of law or fact.” Arthur v. King, 500 F.3d 1335, 1343 (11th Cir. 2007) (alteration in original) (quoting In re Kellogg, 197 F.3d 1116, 1119 (11th Cir. 1999)). Neither of Trump’s points involve newly discovered evidence or manifest errors of law or fact, and the record confirms that the district court cited and applied the correct standard. We find no abuse of discretion.
This ruling represents more than just another failed Trump lawsuit—it’s a textbook example of how SLAPP suits are supposed to be handled by the courts. Trump’s case had all the hallmarks: a thin-skinned public figure using expensive litigation to punish media criticism, weak legal theories designed more to harass than to win, and endless procedural gamesmanship when the substantive claims inevitably failed.
What makes this particularly significant is that the rejection comes from a panel that includes two of Trump’s own judicial appointees. This demolishes the narrative that Trump’s legal failures stem from “biased” courts rather than fundamentally weak cases. When even judges you appointed won’t buy your legal theories, that’s a pretty clear signal that the problem isn’t judicial activism—it’s your vexatious case.
The broader context here matters. Trump has weaponized defamation law as a tool to silence media criticism throughout his career, filing lawsuit after lawsuit against news organizations that report unflattering truths about him. Most of these cases follow the same pattern: grandiose claims, weak legal theories, and inevitable failure in court. But the process is the punishment—forcing news organizations to spend time and money defending their basic right to engage in political commentary.
There’s nothing new or novel about this case. There’s no deep need to explore some nuance of defamation law here. This is just a garden variety SLAPP suit by one of the most petulant thin-skinned presidents we’ve ever had who regularly loves to abuse the legal system to try to silence and suppress media who doesn’t praise his every move.
In theory, Trump could seek an en banc rehearing by the entire Eleventh Circuit or petition the Supreme Court to review this decision, but both moves would be long shots at best. The legal principles here are well-established, the factual record is clear, and there’s no circuit split or novel constitutional question that would warrant further review. This case is a dead end, which is exactly where it belonged from the start.
Donald Trump’s FCC boss Brendan Carr is opening a fake new “investigation” into PBS, NPR, and BBC in the hopes of suppressing journalistic criticism of the country’s increasingly unmoored and unpopular President. Carr first leaked word of the fake investigation to right wing propaganda website Breitbart.
Carr clearly doesn’t regulate UK media organizations. The PBS and NPR never even aired the documentary in question and had nothing do do with the BBC’s edits. So in his letter, Carr has to jump through a bunch of hoops to make his performative effort sound official and coherent:
Trump's censor in chief at the FCC, Brendan Carr, just sent a letter to the heads of BBC, NPR and PBS informing them he's launching a "news distortion" probe into the BBC's editing of a documentary on Trump's Jan. 6 activities.Here it is:
Tim Karr, Senior Director of consumer group Free Press, told Techdirt that he spoke to the BBC, who never received the supposed letter Carr leaked to Breitbart. It’s also not posted to the FCC website. And it takes a few minutes of research to find that PBS and NPR, again, never aired the documentary in question (“Panorama,” which never aired in the U.S. and wasn’t even all that critical of Trump).
This is a manufactured scandal. Carr is putting on a cute little show for Trump and right wing media so he can pretend he’s being “tough” on “unfair” “liberal” media outlets. While this is performative grandstanding by a strange, unserious man, it’s still very dangerous for a government official to be abusing FCC authority to try and suppress journalism and free speech.
We’ve covered the BBC fracas recently. The short version: a right wing tabloid created a scandal out of the fact that a year old BBC documentary edited together two parts of Trump’s January 6 speech encouraging violence at the Capitol. While the snippet does reflect Trump’s clear and obvious intent to incite violence at the Capitol, the edit stitched together two parts of the same speech 54 minutes apart.
Still, as we’ve seen with outlets like ABC and CBS, that effort’s been working well so far when it comes to major U.S. media companies, whose affluent, usually Conservative owners are more worried about tax cuts, deregulation, and merger approvals than they are about consistently serving the public interest. It’s far less likely to work on a media organization in another country that isn’t regulated by Brendan Carr.
Trump has claimed he’s going to file a $1-$5 billion lawsuit against the BBC for the edit, despite the fact the edits occurred more than a year ago (outside the limits of UK defamation law).
The BBC hasn’t helped itself by over-reacting to the fake right wing scandal; with numerous high level BBC employees resigning, and the BBC CEO tripping over himself to apologize. Still, they’ve promised to fight Trump’s lawsuit, and have a very good chance of winning it.
Since that lawsuit isn’t likely to go well, Trump had Carr once again abuse FCC authority to launch a fake investigation based on the FCC’s decades-old “news distortion” rule. That rule, created in 1949, was supposed to be used to police major scandals — like a company or politician bribing a news organization to suppress a story important to the public interest.
A bipartisan coalition of former FCC officials just last week wrote a letter to Carr, urging him to eliminate the dated rule and stop abusing FCC power to crush free speech and undermine journalism. Carr, a dutiful MAGA loyalist, unsurprisingly refused, continuing to pretend he’s “serving the public interest”:
Unfortunately when the cowed U.S. corporate media covers these obvious attacks on free speech, they tend to soft sell how monumentally full of shit Carr and Trump are on this subject. Which is, of course, the exact outcome Trump and Carr are looking for.
The U.S. right wing is openly buying up major social networks (X, TikTok), and what’s left of our broken mainstream media (CBS, CNN), then trying to bully or bribe any stragglers into being pathetic stewards of major online information spaces (Meta), or feckless echoes of serious journalism (ABC).
However silly and performative Brendan Carr may be, his party’s mission to own, bully, or destroy all the cornerstones of major media is extremely dangerous. It’s the same gambit authoritarians in countries like Hungary and Russia successfully implemented to successfully cement permanent rule. And while it may improve as Trump’s health and influence fails, most of the U.S. responses to date have been pathetic.
With any luck, their hubris and incompetence will be their downfall. But it’s going to necessitate a broader awareness — especially among the Democrat party gerontocracy easily befuddled by the modern information environment — of what’s actually happening and what they’re trying to accomplish.
Carr’s roping in of NPR and PBS comes as the U.S. right wing also tries to destroy whatever was left of U.S. public media. They’re well aware that, untethered from the distorted financial incentives of ad-based corporate media, public media is more likely to be honest about the dangers of idiot authoritarianism (Jon Oliver recently had a good segment on public media that’s worth a watch).
It’s unlikely anything real comes of this inquiry itself. Again, the FCC doesn’t regulate the BBC and NPR and PBS literally had nothing to do with the BBC’s decision. Carr is putting on a cute (but dangerous) show for his mad king and right wing media, wasting taxpayer resources, and trying to scare media organizations away from telling the public the truth about an unpopular, embarrassing administration.
Last week we noted how the BBC has been tripping over itself to apologize to Donald Trump for some edits made to a BBC documentary. Admittedly the edits weren’t the best idea; they effectively cobbled together two different parts of Trump’s January 6 speech 54 minutes apart not to misrepresent, but to make it more clear that Trump actively encouraged an open, violent insurrection that resulted in fatalities.
Obviously our mad, idiot king didn’t much like that.
“US President Donald Trump says he intends to sue the BBC for between $1 billion and $5 billion “probably sometime next week” despite the broadcaster’s apology to him over a documentary Trump’s lawyers described as defamatory.
“I think I have to do it,” Trump told reporters. “They’ve even admitted that they cheated … They cheated, they changed the words coming out of my mouth.”
Again, the edits didn’t entirely “change the words coming out of Trump’s mouth,” because he actively did vocally support a violent insurrection against the government. They did however cobble together two different parts of a speech to make it sound like they were said all at once, something the documentary editors should have known better than to do given king dingus’ litigious nature.
Granted Trump may not have as much fun in British courts, where Justices and Judges are likely to be less receptive to Donald’s incoherence. UK defamation laws are also an entirely different affair, with Trump being particularly challenged by the fact the BBC edits occurred more than twelve months ago, and defamation action in UK courts must occur within twelve months of the alleged offense.
Last week we noted how the BBC’s over-groveling undermined the most important thing: that Donald Trump really did actively incite a violent insurrection resulting in $2.7 million in damages to the Capitol, 174 assaulted police officers, and four belated law enforcement suicides. And he’s abusing the courts to stifle journalism critical of his radical extremist authoritarianism.
It sounds like BBC leadership isn’t entirely invertebrate. While BBC officials like Chair BBC chair Samir Shah admit the edits were an “error of judgment” (unlike executives at CBS) it appears they’ll actually be putting up a fight in court of Trump follows through:
“I want to be very clear with you – our position has not changed. There is no basis for a defamation case and we are determined to fight this.”
As Trump’s health, power, and influence wanes, this sort of bullying is only going to become less and less effective and more and more toothless. In the interim, it would be nice if some major media institutions could dig deep and find a little backbone; especially given how many lawyers and donors would be happy to help fund a pro bono acceleration of Donald Trump’s inevitable collapse.
In what may be the most legally absurd aftermath of a rap battle in hip-hop history, Drake’s preposterously silly lawsuit against Universal Music has met its predictable end. The artist sued his own record label—not Kendrick Lamar himself—for the crime of also distributing Lamar’s devastating diss track Not Like Us. The judge overseeing the case has now dismissed it entirely, delivering what amounts to a final judicial verse in this musical feud.
Judge Jeannette Vargas recognizes a killer song when she hears one:
This case arises from perhaps the most infamous rap battle in the genre’s history, the vitriolic war of words that erupted between superstar recording artists Aubrey Drake Graham (“Drake”) and Kendrick Lamar Duckworth (“Lamar” or “Kendrick Lamar”) in the spring of 2024. Over the course of 16 days, the two artists released eight so-called “diss tracks,” with increasingly heated rhetoric, loaded accusations, and violent imagery. The penultimate song of this feud, “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar, dealt the metaphorical killing blow. The song contains lyrics explicitly accusing Drake of being a pedophile, set to a catchy beat and propulsive bassline. “Not Like Us” went on to become a cultural sensation, achieving immense commercial success and critical acclaim.
When you sue over a song, and the judge notes that the song has a catchy beat and a propulsive bassline, let alone “dealt the metaphorical killing blow,” I don’t think your lawsuit is going to survive. The court dumps it while noting that just because randos commenting on social media now call Drake a pedophile based on the song, that doesn’t make the song defamatory:
The Court holds, based upon a full consideration of the context in which “Not Like Us” was published, that a reasonable listener could not have concluded that “Not Like Us” was conveying objective facts about Drake. The views expressed by users @kaioken8026, @mrright8439, and @ZxZNebula, and the other YouTube and Instagram commentators quoted in the Complaint, Am. Compl., ¶¶ 73-74, do not alter the Court’s analysis. In a world in which billions of people are active online, support for almost any proposition, no matter how farfetched, fantastical or unreasonable, can be found with little effort in any number of comment sections, chat rooms, and servers. “[T]hat some readers may infer a defamatory meaning from a statement does not necessarily render the inference reasonable under the circumstances.” Jacobus, 51 N.Y.S.3d at 336.
The artists’ seven-track rap battle was a “war of words” that was the subject of substantial media scrutiny and online discourse. Although the accusation that Plaintiff is a pedophile is certainly a serious one, the broader context of a heated rap battle, with incendiary language and offensive accusations hurled by both participants, would not incline the reasonable listener to believe that “Not Like Us” imparts verifiable facts about Plaintiff
The judge actually does a fairly complete and detailed history of the war of words between Drake and Kendrick, even explaining the nature of the insults that pass back and forth between the two. Here’s just one paragraph of that section, but if you weren’t full up on the beef, now you can catch up:
Lamar fired back at Drake in “Euphoria,” which was released on April 30, 2024. Req. J. Not. at 3. In the track, Lamar claims, “I make music that electrify ‘em, you make music that pacify ‘em” and that he would “spare [Drake] this time, that’s random acts of kindness.” Req. J. Not., Ex. K. He accuses Drake of fabricating his claims: “Know you a master manipulator and habitual liar too/But don’t tell no lie about me and I won’t tell truths ‘bout you.” Id; see also Am. Compl., ¶¶ 14, 77. He insults Drake’s fashion sense, Req. J. Not., Ex. K (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk, I hate the way that you dress”), further raps “I believe you don’t like women, it’s real competition, you might pop a** with ‘em,” and taunts Drake for being a coward with his responses, id. (“I hate the way that you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it’s gon’ be direct.”)
Of course, in any defamation case, there can be fights over whether or not statements are facts (which can be defamatory) or opinion (which can’t be defamatory). Drake’s legal team had tried to argue that the question of whether the statements in Not Like Us were fact or opinion was a question of fact for a jury. But that’s not how that works. It’s a question of law that judges decide in most cases:
Whether a challenged statement is fact or opinion is a legal question. Celle, 209 F.3d at 178. Plaintiff argues that it is inappropriate for the Court to determine, at the pleading stage, whether a reasonable listener would perceive the Recording as fact or opinion. Opp’n Br. at 13-14; Hr’g Tr. at 24:11-26:8. Yet, because this is a question of law, New York courts routinely resolve this question at the motion to dismiss stage. See, e.g., Brian v. Richardson, 87 N.Y.2d 46, 52 (1995) (holding, on a motion to dismiss, that challenged statement constitutes opinion); Dfinity Found. v. New York Times Co., 702 F. Supp. 3d 167, 174 (S.D.N.Y. 2023), aff’d, No. 23-7838- cv, 2024 WL 3565762 (2d Cir. July 29, 2024) (“Whether a statement is a “fact [or] opinion is ‘a question of law for the courts, to be decided based on what the average person hearing or reading the communication would take it to mean’ and is appropriately raised at the motion to dismiss stage.”); Greenberg v. Spitzer, 62 N.Y.S.3d 372, 385-86 (2d Dep’t 2017) (holding that, because whether a statement is defamatory “presents a legal issue to be resolved by the court,” defamation actions are particularly suitable for resolution on a motion to dismiss). “There is particular value in resolving defamation claims at the pleading stage, so as not to protract litigation through discovery and trial and thereby chill the exercise of constitutionally protected freedoms.” Dfinity Found., 702 F. Supp. 3d at 173 (cleaned up); accord Biro, 963 F. Supp. 2d at 279.
Also, in defamation cases, the context of the speech always matters quite a bit. And here, the context is a rap battle. The judge points out how silly it is to go to court just because you got dissed too hard:
This is precisely the type of context in which an audience may anticipate the use of “epithets, fiery rhetoric or hyperbole” rather than factual assertions. A rap diss track would not create more of an expectation in the average listener that the lyrics state sober facts instead of opinion than the statements at issue in those cases.
For example, in “Euphoria” Lamar calls Drake a “master manipulator and habitual liar” and “a scam artist.” Req. J. Not., Ex. K. Drake responds in “Family Matters” by heavily implying that Lamar is a domestic abuser. See id., Ex. M. He also raps that he “heard” that one of Lamar’s sons may not be biologically his. Id. (“Why you never hold your son and tell him, ‘Say cheese’?/We could’ve left the kids out of this, don’t blame me/. . . I heard that one of ‘em little kids might be Dave Free”).
In “Meet the Grahams,” Lamar takes issue with Drake involving his family members in their feud. Req. J. Not., Ex. N (“Dear Aubrey/I know you probably thinkin’ I wanted to crash your party/But truthfully, I don’t have a hatin’ bone in my body/This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game/But you f***ed up the moment you called out my family’s name/Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people?”). In that same track, Lamar alleges that Drake uses the weight loss drug Ozempic. Id. (“Don’t cut them corners like your daddy did, f*** what Ozempic did/Don’t pay to play with them Brazilians, get a gym membership.”). Lamar also insinuates that Drake knowingly hires sexual offenders. See id. (“Grew facial hair because he understood bein’ a beard just fit him better/He got sex offenders on ho-VO that he keep on a monthly allowance.”).
While Drake argued that the judge should ignore the other songs in the battle, the judge knows that’s not how any of this works:
Plaintiff argues that the Court should ignore the songs that came before and assess “Not Like Us” as a “singular entity.” Hr’g Tr. at 39:14-15; see also Opp’n Br. at 15-17. Plaintiff argues that the average listener is not someone who is familiar with every track released as part of the rap battle before listening to the Recording. Hr’g Tr. at 32:17-33:2; 35:9-19. Because the Recording has achieved a level of “cultural ubiquity” far beyond the other seven songs, Plaintiff contends that Court should not consider those other tracks in assessing how the average listener of the Recording would perceive the allegations regarding Drake. Hr’g Tr. at 36:10- 19; id. at 39:11-17; see also Opp’n Br. at 15.
There are a number of flaws with this argument. “Not Like Us” cannot be viewed in isolation but must be placed in its appropriate factual context. Immuno AG. v. Moor-Jankowski, 77 N.Y.2d 235, 254 (1991) (“[S]tatements must first be viewed in their context in order for courts to determine whether a reasonable person would view them as expressing or implying any facts.”). Here, that factual context is the insults and trash talking that took place via these diss tracks in the days and weeks leading up to the publication of “Not Like Us.” The songs released during this rap battle are in dialogue with one another. They reference prior songs and then respond to insults and accusations made by the rival artist. See, e.g., Am. Compl., ¶ 63. The songs thus must be read together to fully assess how the general audience would perceive the statements in the Recording. See, e.g., Celle, 209 F.3d at 187 (holding that two newspaper articles had to be read together to understand full context).
Also, the judge points out that part of the reason the song was so famous in the first place was because of the wider rap battle:
Additionally, it was not just the Recording which gained a cultural ubiquity, but the rap battle itself. In deciding this motion to dismiss, the Court need not blind itself to the public attention garnered by this particular rap battle. The Court takes judicial notice of the extensive mainstream media reporting that surrounded the release of “Not Like Us” and the associated feud between Drake and Lamar.
Then there’s the incoherence of Drake claiming that UMG was liable (remember, Kendrick was not a defendant here) because it kept “republishing” the song as it got more and more popular. But, as the judge notes, the later popularity of the song should have no impact on whether or not the song is defamatory (and it’s not):
Plaintiff counters that, even if the Recording was protected opinion at the time of its initial publication, UMG’s republication of “Not Like Us” in the months following, after it achieved unprecedented levels of commercial success, exposes it to liability. Hr’g Tr. at 37:20-38:17. This argument is logically incoherent. If the Recording was nonactionable opinion at the time it was initially produced, then its republication would not expose UMG to liability. Republication cannot transform Lamar’s statement of opinion into UMG’s statement of fact
There were other arguments Drake made in there as well, but they all fared about as well as Drake did in his rap battle with Kendrick.
The end result is that the case is dismissed. And, I gotta say, when you lose a rap battle so hard that your lawsuit over it is dismissed with a judge praising the catchiness of the song that went viral… that seems like you’ve lost that rap battle harder than anyone has ever lost a rap battle.
In what may be a first in American legal history, a sitting president just had his lawsuit struck down by a federal judge before the defendants even had a chance to respond.
Judge Steven Merryday didn’t wait for a motion to dismiss. He didn’t wait for the defendants to file an answer. Four days after Donald Trump’s lawyers filed their 85-page tantrum masquerading as a defamation complaint against the New York Times and Penguin Random House, Merryday struck it sua sponte—essentially telling the President of the United States that his legal filing was so fundamentally defective it wasn’t worth the court’s time.
Sua sponte dismissals are extraordinarily rare. Judges typically bend over backwards to let even the most questionable complaints proceed to motion practice. The fact that a federal judge took the unusual step of striking a complaint without any prompting from defendants signals just how egregiously improper Trump’s filing was.
Last week, we told you about the ridiculously dopey lawsuit that Donald Trump had filed against Penguin Random House, the NY Times, and some reporters over… something. It wasn’t quite clear. But the lawsuit spent many, many pages fluffing Donald Trump’s ego and suggesting that the mere endorsement in the NY Times of Kamala Harris was election interference and suggested that it would break all the laws to criticize Dear Leader Donald J. Trump.
The complaint also betrayed a fundamental misunderstanding of defamation law’s “actual malice” standard and bore hallmarks that led many observers to suspect it was AI-generated—a theory that gains credibility when you read Judge Merryday’s scathing analysis of its contents.
The venue choice was transparently strategic. Trump forum-shopped his way to the Tampa division of the Middle District of Florida despite having no meaningful connection there—Mar-a-Lago is in the Southern District, and the defendants are based in New York. The complaint’s assertion that venue was proper because defendants “sell newspapers and books” in the district was laughably weak.
The real reason was likely that four of the five regular judges in that division were Trump appointees. But Trump’s luck ran out when the case landed on the docket of Judge Steven Merryday (who is on senior status), a no-nonsense Bush Sr. appointee who clearly wasn’t impressed by the presidential plaintiff.
As every member of the bar of every federal court knows (or is presumed to know), Rule 8(a), Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, requires that a complaint include “a short and plain statement of the claim showing that the pleader is entitled to relief.” Rule 8(e)(1) helpfully adds that “[e]ach averment of a pleading shall be simple, concise, and direct.” Some pleadings are necessarily longer than others. The difference likely depends on the number of parties and claims, the complexity of the governing facts, and the duration and scope of pertinent events. But both a shorter pleading and a longer pleading must comprise “simple, concise, and direct” allegations that offer a “short and plain statement of the claim.” Rule 8 governs every pleading in a federal court, regardless of the amount in controversy, the identity of the parties, the skill or reputation of the counsel, the urgency or importance (real or imagined) of the dispute, or any public interest at issue in the dispute.
In this action, a prominent American citizen (perhaps the most prominent American citizen) alleges defamation by a prominent American newspaper publisher (perhaps the most prominent American newspaper publisher) and by several other corporate and natural persons. Alleging only two simple counts of defamation, the complaint consumes eighty-five pages. Count I appears on page eighty, and Count II appears on page eighty-three. Pages one through seventy-nine, plus part of page eighty, present allegations common to both counts and to all defendants. Each count alleges a claim against each defendant and, apparently, each claim seeks the same remedy against each defendant.
But the judge doesn’t mince words about how “improper” the complaint is beyond just the length:
Even under the most generous and lenient application of Rule 8, the complaint is decidedly improper and impermissible. The pleader initially alleges an electoral victory by President Trump “in historic fashion” — by “trouncing” the opponent — and alludes to “persistent election interference from the legacy media, led most notoriously by the New York Times.” The pleader alludes to “the halcyon days” of the newspaper but complains that the newspaper has become a “full-throated mouthpiece of the Democrat party,” which allegedly resulted in the “deranged endorsement” of President Trump’s principal opponent in the most recent presidential election. The reader of the complaint must labor through allegations, such as “a new journalistic low for the hopelessly compromised and tarnished ‘Gray Lady.’” The reader must endure an allegation of “the desperate need to defame with a partisan spear rather than report with an authentic looking glass” and an allegation that “the false narrative about ‘The Apprentice’ was just the tip of Defendants’ melting iceberg of falsehoods.” Similarly, in one of many, often repetitive, and laudatory (toward President Trump) but superfluous allegations, the pleader states, “‘The Apprentice’ represented the cultural magnitude of President Trump’s singular brilliance, which captured the [Z]eitgeist of our time.”
And also points out how “tedious” the complaint is and points out that a civil complaint is no place for ranting and raving about how mean people are to you, with the main target being the PR value over having a legitimate complaint:
As every lawyer knows (or is presumed to know), a complaint is not a public forum for vituperation and invective — not a protected platform to rage against an adversary. A complaint is not a megaphone for public relations or a podium for a passionate oration at a political rally or the functional equivalent of the Hyde Park Speakers’ Corner.
That’s basically: “your complaint is the legal equivalent of the guy screaming out conspiracy theories on the street corner.”
The judge, as he should, gives Trump 28 days to amend the complaint, which is likely to happen. Whether or not his lawyers can actually follow the local rules and properly state a claim will remain only conjecture until that time.
Meanwhile, Trump appeared wholly unaware that the case was tossed on Friday while meeting with the press. He started bragging about the case and when ABC News reporter Jonathan Karl pointed out that the case had been tossed, Trump responded “I’m winning, I’m winning the cases.” He’s not.
TRUMP: That's why I sued the New York Times two days ago for a lot of moneyKARL: A judge just threw that outTRUMP: I'm winning. I'm winning the cases.
The disconnect between Trump’s perception and legal reality perfectly encapsulates his approach to litigation: file theatrical lawsuits designed more for headlines than legal success, then either attack judges or (as here) just deny reality when courts treat them as actual legal documents that must follow rules. It’s a pattern we’ve seen repeatedly—lawsuits that work better as press releases than as instruments of justice.
Having a President who operates in an alternate reality where judicial smackdowns count as victories is, to put it mildly, concerning. But these days, it’s just a Friday.
Even by Donald Trump’s standards for frivolous defamation lawsuits, this one is impressively stupid. On Monday, the president filed yet another lawsuit against the NY Times—this time seeking $15 billion over a book that claims he’s not quite as successful a businessman as he pretends to be.
The timing is almost comically bad. Trump is suing over allegations that he’s not actually that successful… right after winning the presidency in a landslide and making absolute bank while doing it. Has there ever been a sorer winner in the history of politics? You’re the fucking President. Get over the fact that some people criticize you already.
Trump has a decently long history of suing media outlets over unflattering coverage, including multiple failed attempts against the Times. Just last year, he had to pay nearly $400k in legal fees after another bogus lawsuit against the Times failed. But why let past failures slow you down when you can file an even dumber one?
The lawsuit is against the NY Times and book publisher Penguin Random House, along with some reporters at the NY Times. The complaint is… well… it is not the most organized or professional of complaints. It is, as so many Donald Trump lawsuits seem to be, political documents designed to please Donald Trump and his legally ignorant MAGA base, rather than convincing judges.
The complaint reads more like a press release than a legal document, packed with ego-stroking passages that reveal just how pathetically thin-skinned Trump remains. Consider this actual paragraph from a federal lawsuit:
Thanks solely to President Trump’s sui generis charisma and unique business acumen, “The Apprentice” generated hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue, and remained on television for over thirteen years, with nearly 200 episodes. “The Apprentice” represented the cultural magnitude of President Trump’s singular brilliance, which captured the zeitgeist of our time.
And, yes, that picture is included.
The complaint starts out by claiming that the NY Times endorsing Kamala Harris was a form of “election interference” which is not how anything works.
President Trump trounced Harris with 312 electoral votes and a sweep of all seven “battleground” states. This victory was remarkable for many historic reasons, including because President Trump had to overcome persistent election interference from the legacy media, led most notoriously by the New York Times.
That’s literally in the first paragraph of the complaint (though the claims themselves do not revolve around election interference, but even weaker claims of defamation). But, admitting that you won the election already undermines the idea that there was any damage done to Trump’s reputation from [checks notes] political reporting on him (historically some of the most protected of speech under the First Amendment.)
Indeed, Trump is going to have a pretty difficult time showing “damage” done to his reputation here. He claims that the NY Times tried to do three things:
Defendants’ pre-election goal was to kill three birds with one stone: (a) damage President Trump’s hard-earned and world-renowned reputation for business success, (b) in the process, sabotage his 2024 candidacy for President of the United States, and (c) prejudice judges and juries in the unlawful cases brought against President Trump, his family, and his businesses by his political opponents for purposes of election interference.
If that were true (and it isn’t) then they failed on all three counts. Trump won the election easily in 2024, he’s making absolute bank while being President (perhaps more than doubling his wealth) and all of the lawsuits against him have basically been shut down with Trump coming out on top.
Also, for anyone who has followed the NY Times’ repeated (and somewhat pathetic) attempts to bend over backwards to appease Trump and sanewash his attempt to bring fascism to America by pretending it’s politics-as-normal, this following sentence is ridiculous:
Today, the Times is a full-throated mouthpiece of the Democrat Party.
There is no one who has followed the NY Times’ willingness to “both sides” every crazy thing Trump does who actually believes that.
Then, after nearly five pages of screaming about how liberal the NY Times is, the lawsuit finally says that this lawsuit is not really about the NY Times at all, but rather a book written by two of its reporters (hence the Penguin Random House inclusion on the defendants list).
The subject matter of this action—a malicious, defamatory, and disparaging book written by two of its reporters and three false, malicious, defamatory, and disparaging articles, all carefully crafted by Defendants, with actual malice, calculated to inflict maximum damage upon President Trump, and all published during the height of a Presidential Election that became the most consequential in American history—represent a new journalistic low for the hopelessly compromised and tarnished “Gray Lady.” Defendants’ pre-election goal was to kill three birds with one stone: (a) damage President Trump’s hard-earned and world-renowned reputation for business success, (b) in the process, sabotage his 2024 candidacy for President of the United States, and (c) prejudice judges and juries in the unlawful cases brought against President Trump, his family, and his businesses by his political opponents for purposes of election interference. With President Trump having won the Presidency, Defendants’ goals remain similar and unlawful: tarnish his legacy of achievement, destroy his reputation as a successful businessman, and subject him to humiliation and ridicule.
Specifically, on September 17, 2024, Penguin published a false, malicious, and defamatory book titled “Lucky Loser: How Donald Trump Squandered His Father’s Fortune and Created the Illusion of Success” (the “Book”), authored by Craig and Buettner.
Dude. You won! Has there ever been a sorer winner in the history of politics? My goodness.
Before diving deeper into this mess, it’s crucial to understand what Trump actually needs to prove. As a public figure, he must show “actual malice”—and despite what Trump’s lawyers seem to think, that’s not about being mean to him.
Actual malice requires proving the defendants published something they knew was false or with reckless disregard for the truth (and reckless disregard also means something different than most people assume: it means you have to have ignored evidence that what you were publishing was false). It’s an extremely high bar, deliberately designed to protect robust debate about public figures. It has absolutely nothing to do with being angry or hostile—which is what Trump’s very bad lawyers seem to think it means.
Defendants each desire for President Trump fail politically and financially. Each feels actual malice towards President Trump in the colloquial sense: that is, each—Craig, Buettner, Baker, and Schmidt, as individuals, and the Times and Penguin’s relevant executives as corporations—subjectively wishes to harm President Trump, and each wish to manipulate public opinion to President Trump’s disadvantage to worsen his current and future political and economic prospects. Put bluntly, Defendants baselessly hate President Trump in a deranged way.
That final sentence—”Defendants baselessly hate President Trump in a deranged way”—reads like it was written by a sixth grader having a tantrum, not a lawyer filing a federal lawsuit. More importantly, nowhere in this 85-page screed do Trump’s lawyers actually demonstrate the knowing falsity or reckless disregard that the law requires.
They describe completely typical best practices in reporting as if they’re nefarious, such as the following:
Likewise, the Times and its reporters, including Craig, Buettner, Baker, and Schmidt, have a pattern and practice of contacting President Trump and his team regarding negative stories on a short timeline so as to be able to state that they sought comment—in order to preserve a scintilla of the pretense of neutrality—while making it functionally impossible for President Trump to comment on stories with factual errors, correct those errors, or provide a responsive quote before publication. This policy further enables the Times and its reporters to publish negative assertions about President Trump about which they subjectively harbor doubts as to their truthfulness by permitting them to claim that they sought factual confirmation or denial regarding their stories, even when they subjectively realize that they did not do so in good faith.
Again, that’s not how any of this works, and it’s certainly not how the NY Times’ reporting works. I have plenty of criticisms about the NY Times and its coverage, but the idea that they do this for the reasons stated is ludicrous.
The incredibly weak attempt to argue for reckless disregard… is to claim that because they didn’t interview producer Mark Burnett about Trump’s time on The Apprentice, that’s a form of ignoring counter evidence.
For non-exhaustive examples, and as detailed supra, Defendants published numerous statements regarding President Trump’s role in “The Apprentice” without first securing an interview from primary sources senior to the production of The Apprentice, such as Burnett. Defendants knew that Burnett would likely have contradicted numerous specific false, malicious, and defamatory purported statements of fact that they made regarding President Trump’s role in “The Apprentice” as well as their general narrative regarding President Trump’s role in the show’s success. Defendants therefore did not sufficiently pursue speaking with Burnett even after he did not grant an interview, did not sufficiently seek to obtain his original notes or records, and otherwise failed to engage with Burnett and other potential insiders with “The Apprentice” because they subjectively believed that these sources would have tended to contradict the defamatory lies that they wished to publish about President Trump.
Again, this is not how the NY Times works. If Burnett would have spoken to them (and historically he has refused to talk to the media about Trump beyond a single press statement he made before the 2016 election), the NY Times would have loved it and would have quoted him extensively, as that would be a huge scoop, given how often Burnett has refused to comment on Trump.
There’s also a whole tangent building off of Tulsi Gabbard’s ridiculously misleading statements earlier this year, falsely claiming that the Obama administration tried to fake Russia’s attempts to interfere with the 2016 election, even though multiple investigations (including those led by Republicans) have found that Russia absolutely tried to influence the 2016 election, even if it didn’t have much actual success.
The lawsuit then asks for… $15 billion dollars. How very Dr. Evil. The NY Times, for what it’s worth, is currently valued at less than $10 billion.
A lot of people discussing this lawsuit are claiming two things: that it’s really all about getting a settlement out of the NY Times like he’s been getting out of others, and second that it’s an attempt to get NYT v. Sullivan (the key case that established the actual malice standard) overturned.
While that may be the intent behind this lawsuit, I find both unlikely. Yes, in the lawsuit, Trump lists out a bunch of those corrupt settlements, as if they’re somehow relevant here. But plenty of people have observed that those settlements had nothing to do with the merits of the cases, but rather were entirely about capitulating to a bully and trying to get him off their backs. And, in the case of CBS, it seemed quite clear that the settlement was so that Shari Redstone could get her deal to sell Paramount/CBS to Larry Ellison’s son.
And, when it comes to the NY Times, they have a very good legal team that tends to relish taking on bad faith, bullshit SLAPP style lawsuits. They have a very good track record on those, and don’t often roll over. I would imagine that the legal team feels pretty strongly about defending this case rather than settling.
As for the attack on the actual malice standard, that’s the same thing people claimed about the last Trump lawsuit against the NY Times and it went up in smoke. It’s what people seem to want to claim about a bunch of frivolous defamation claims lately, and while it may be what the lawyers want, they seem like really bad cases to make these arguments. Because the underlying facts are so silly and so obviously bullshit, that the facts make for really bad cases to argue that the NYT v. Sullivan standard is somehow unfair.
Honestly, this just feels like so many of Trump’s lawsuits: engaging in pointless vexatious SLAPP lawfare just to punish media properties that publish negative stories about him. He has long admitted that he enjoys filing such lawsuits. Famously, he once said:
“I spent a couple of bucks on legal fees, and they spent a whole lot more. I did it to make his life miserable, which I’m happy about.”
That’s the very definition of a SLAPP suit. And, if you’re wondering, Florida does have an anti-SLAPP law, though it’s a bit quirky compared to other states. Also (more importantly) the Eleventh Circuit (which covers Florida) has said that you can’t use anti-SLAPP laws in federal court.
But, really, if you want proof that this is just Trump trying to punish those who dare to report on him accurately, just witness how he responded to a question about how he felt about Pam Bondi’s unconstitutional claims of punishing people for hate speech, by immediately threatening to go after the journalist who asked the question.
JON KARL: What do you make of Pam Bondi saying she's gonna go after hate speech? A lot of your allies say hate speech is free speechTRUMP: We'll probably go after people like you because you treat me so unfairly. You have a lot of hate in your hate. Maybe they'll have to go after you.
We’ve seen some pretty ridiculous lawsuits here at Techdirt, but the one that Donald Trump filed on Friday against Rupert Murdoch and the Wall Street Journal over the article about the birthday card he was alleged to have given Epstein is so legally incompetent that it reads like a masterclass in how not to file a defamation claim.
The complaint is such a train wreck of basic legal errors and factual misrepresentations that it can only be understood as a SLAPP suit designed to harass the WSJ and force them to reveal sources. The legal malpractice on display would be almost comical if it weren’t so transparent in its authoritarian intent.
Trump is using a Miami law firm that appears to specialize in franchise law—which might explain the amateurish quality of this defamation complaint. When you can’t get competent media lawyers, apparently you make do with whoever will take your money.
Let’s start with what the WSJ actually reported, because the lawyers filing this suit seem to have struggled with basic reading comprehension. It claims that Trump gave Epstein a card for his 50th Birthday that, well, here’s how they describe it:
The letter bearing Trump’s name, which was reviewed by the Journal, is bawdy—like others in the album. It contains several lines of typewritten text framed by the outline of a naked woman, which appears to be hand-drawn with a heavy marker. A pair of small arcs denotes the woman’s breasts, and the future president’s signature is a squiggly “Donald” below her waist, mimicking pubic hair.
The letter concludes: “Happy Birthday — and may every day be another wonderful secret.”
The Journal also includes the type written faux dialogue between Trump and Epstein that was apparently included, which is so bizarre I’m not even going to bother repeating it here.
Here’s where the legal incompetence begins. Trump’s defenders, led by JD Vance, immediately seized on the fact that the WSJ didn’t publish a photo of the letter as somehow “proof” it doesn’t exist:
This reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of how journalism works. Major publications don’t publish stories like this without solid sourcing—the WSJ’s legal team wouldn’t allow it. More importantly, there are often very good reasons for media organizations not to reveal images of documents that have been leaked to them. Just ask Reality Winner. And, of course, I’m sure the Trump regime would love to know who leaked this document, so seeing an image might help reveal that information.
But that doesn’t make it a good legal argument. Unless you’re just trying to flush out the leaker.
So it’s notable that the lawyers decide to lead with that as their key piece of “evidence” that the story is fabricated—a strategy that’s likely to backfire spectacularly when the WSJ produces the letter in discovery (or before).
On the one hand, Defendants Safdar and Palazzolo falsely pass off as fact that President Trump, in 2003, wrote, drew, and signed this letter. And on the other hand,Defendants Safdar and Palazzolo failed to attach the letter, failed to attach the alleged drawing, failed to show proofthat President Trump authored or signed any such letter, and failed to explain how this purported letter was obtained.The reason for those failures is because no authentic letter or drawing exists.Defendants concocted this story to malign President Trump’s character and integrity and deceptively portray him in a false light.
That’s a bold claim. It seems like quite the gambit to open with a claim that the letter doesn’t even exist, when it seems quite likely that this argument will come back to haunt them.
Also, the lawyers can’t even accurately describe what the WSJ reported. The complaint claims the article states that “President Trump, in 2003, wrote, drew, and signed this letter.” But that’s not what the WSJ said. The article carefully states the letter bore Trump’s name and signature, and that the drawing “appears to be hand-drawn” without attributing the drawing to Trump.
This isn’t just sloppy—it’s the kind of basic factual error that suggests the lawyers either didn’t carefully read the article they’re suing over, or are deliberately misrepresenting it.
The complaint also has a weird argument about how the WSJ published this as an “exclusive” but then… disseminated it widely. As one does. With news. I don’t know why this paragraph is in here, other than to make it clear that the lawyer who wrote this is unfamiliar with how journalism works:
The Article was published in The Wall Street Journal as an exclusive.1 However, since publication, Defendants have widely disseminated it to hundreds of millions of people worldwide.
They also double down on their claim that it’s impossible that this letter exists, which seems like a kind of lawsuit claim preceding an unfortunate event for them.
Tellingly, the Article does not explain whether Defendants have obtained a copy of the letter, have seen it, have had it described to them, or any other circumstances that would otherwise lend credibility to the Article. That is because the supposed letter is a fake and the Defendants knew it when they chose to deliberately defame President Trump.
But the most egregious nonsense comes in how they identify the allegedly defamatory statements.
In a defamation lawsuit, you have to state which statements made by the defendant were “false statements of fact” and that’s tough to do here, but these lawyers power on through.
They claim, among other things, that the phrase “the letter bearing Trump’s name” is false. They also claim that stating the letter “is bawdy” is false. Calling something “bawdy” would clearly be an opinion based on disclosed facts and literally can’t be defamatory.
But here’s where you know these lawyers didn’t actually read the article they’re suing over. They claim it’s defamatory that the WSJ described some contributors to Epstein’s birthday book as “childhood pals”—and they’re claiming this defames Trump. But look at the sentence:
The album had poems, photos and greetings from businesspeople, academics, Epstein’s former girlfriends andchildhood pals, according to the documents reviewed by the Journal and people familiar with them
The “childhood pals” reference clearly refers to other contributors to the birthday book—not Trump. This is such a basic reading comprehension failure that it raises questions about whether these lawyers actually practiced law before filing this complaint.
They separately claim it’s defamatory to claim that Epstein socialized with Trump, which is ridiculous as the evidence for that is widespread, including multiple images, videos, and Donald Trump’s own words
This is not a serious lawsuit that anyone expects to win.
This is a SLAPP lawsuit.
And it asks for $10 billion dollars.
I mean, it’s kinda like this:
The real question is whether this strategy will work. Given that CBS just paid Trump $16 million to settle a similarly frivolous lawsuit, that ABC paid him $15 million to settle another lawsuit, and that Meta paid him $25 million in what amounts to protection money, Trump has good reason to think that flinging enough legal garbage will eventually pay off. Indeed, he crowed about these payoffs on social media as evidence that Murdoch will pay him too.
But this case presents a fascinating test of media power dynamics. Trump is essentially betting that he can bully Rupert Murdoch the same way he’s successfully bullied other media companies. That’s a bold gamble, in part because of how important Rupert Murdoch has been to Trump’s success. Rupert has been a Trump ally for years, but he can be ruthless when his business interests are threatened.
More importantly, the WSJ has the legal resources to fight this, and, hopefully, the financial incentive to do so.
If the WSJ folds here, it would complete Trump’s transformation of SLAPP suits from a nuisance tactic into a reliable revenue stream. The man who famously complained about “fake news” has figured out that threatening to sue over real news is far more profitable.
But Murdoch isn’t exactly known for backing down when someone tries to shake him down. This could get very messy, very quickly—which might be the most entertaining thing to come out of this embarrassing legal filing.
