Esquire published a funny, satirical article about Jerome Corsi’s book “Where’s the Birth Certificate” after President Obama released his long form certificate.
In an exclusive interview, a reflective Farah, who wrote the book’s foreword and also published Corsi’s earlier best-selling work, Unfit for Command: Swift Boat Veterans Speak out Against John Kerry and Capricorn One: NASA, JFK, and the Great “Moon Landing” Cover-Up, said that after much serious reflection, he could not go forward with the project. “I believe with all my heart that Barack Obama is destroying this country, and I will continue to stand against his administration at every turn, but in light of recent events, this book has become problematic, and contains what I now believe to be factual inaccuracies,” he said this morning. “I cannot in good conscience publish it and expect anyone to believe it.”
First Amendment free speech protections make it difficult to win a defamation claim against an established journalism publication. The plaintiff must prove by clear and convincing evidence that the defamatory statement was made “with knowledge that it was actually false or with reckless disregard of whether it was false or not.” Almost impossible with a satirical article about a matter of public concern. As an end-run around this, Corsi and the book’s publisher are pleading a Lanham Act false advertising claim (in addition to defamation and other state law claims) on the theory that Esquire is a competitor and that the satirical article is misleading. Uh, good luck with that. I’m not sure, however, if this lawsuit actually exists until I personally go to the federal District of Columbia courthouse and physically examine the complaint. Even then, how do I know it’s not a forgery?
And while we’re on the subject of defamation, Peter Paul Piro, a forensic art expert, has sued the New Yorker and the writer David Grann of maybe my favorite New Yorker article of the past year for defamation. After what looked like a typical well-written profile piece, Grann wrote one of the most astonishing paragraphs I’ve read (warning, spoiler):
And so, with this final flourish, the glittering portrait of Peter Paul Biro was complete: he was the triumphant scientist who had transformed the art world. Like “La Bella Principessa,” the image was romantic, almost idealized—the version of Biro that was most appealing to the eye. But, somewhere along the way, I began to notice small, and then more glaring, imperfections in this picture.

