15 Ways New York Times TRICKED You into Hating Justin Baldoni

This is 15 ways the New York Times manipulated you into hating Justin Baldoni and defending Blake Lively. You're watching the Little Miss Jacob show, so by now you guys kind of know what happened. Some of you guys are Team Blake, some of you are Team Justin, but the real villain in this story is the New York Times. And I know, because they attacked me before—4 I in 2020—and I know the way that their games are played. And I want you guys to never get duped by the New York Times ever again. Okay? I'm about to teach you guys a master class.

The New York Times did a hit piece on Justin Baldoni, and that was actually its own master class in media gaslighting. And if you blinked, you missed every single lie. Lucky for you, I didn't. I called BS the second the trash dropped Christmas Eve. I don't even—even know who Justin Baldoni was. Didn't even have anything against Blake Lively. Honestly, I heard she did like a mean-girl interview, and I thought to myself, "Well, everybody's allowed to have a bad day," right? Well, lucky for you, we're going to break this down. I went viral exposing it December 26th, I think it was on X and on Threads, because I posted on both, because I saw people absolutely crucifying Baldoni. Even people that today are like big-time Team Baldoni, they were like being cautious, because I get it—like you don't want to be on the wrong side of history.

How did I know that there was more to the story? I mean, I just read the article, just like you guys, right? Well, it's because news flash, I survived the New York Times smear playbook before, and now I'm going to show you exactly how they do it and what they're hiding. Brian Freedmen has released all these messages and a whole website full of screenshots, but I want to go back to the source. Let's go back to where it all started and dissect the crime scene, if you will. Okay, we're going to figure out how—I mean, the New York Times wouldn't just lie, would they? No, they're like a huge media publication; they can't just lie to you. No. Oh, that's what I thought. I was very naive, and so that's why, if you're listening to this and you're Team Blake, or you're listening to this and I pull up your podcast, just know that I've been there. I've been duped by the New York Times before as well. I thought they were this big, prestigious organization that wouldn't just lie about somebody. I mean, that's crazy, right? I don't know, like when you all grew up, but like when I grew up, my dream was like, okay, if I was going to be in the New York Times, it would be something good, right? Like I was building a big company, or I did something really great for humanity, or I invented something, and they were doing a story about how awesome I was. Well, maybe that's my own naive musings, but I don't think that most people think that they're going to be covered in the New York Times and it's going to be like this terrible lie. I think a lot of people think that if the New York Times exposes you for doing something, you must have done something bad and you deserve it. But I'm going to call it out, because we are going to go back to the crime scene, because often times the New York Times—they get away scot-free. Nobody really stops reading the New York Times. They don't become any less prestigious, and there's something very wrong with that. And I think y'all should be scared, because if it can happen to the likes of me, it can happen to the likes of you too. And the scary part is that most of us don't have a way to fight back right now. Justin Baldoni has this billionaire backer, Steve Sarowitz. Shout out to Steve Sarowitz, because if it wasn't for Steve Sarowitz, you guys wouldn't know the story. You guys wouldn't know Brian Freedmen. You wouldn't know any of the text messages. You wouldn't know anything. You would just know that Justin Baldoni is a creep and you shouldn't like him, right? Listen, at the end of the day, nobody's perfect, but I don't know—I—I think we all realized that there was more to the story.

The New York Times article—it's called "We Can Bury Anyone: Inside a Hollywood Smear Machine"—by Megan Twohey, Mike McIntyre, and Julie Tate. This sets the stage for an alleged campaign to tarnish Blake Lively's reputation after her misconduct allegations against Justin Baldoni last summer, as the release of *It Ends With Us* approached. Justin Baldoni, the director and a star of the film, and Jamie Heath, the lead producer, hired crisis public relations experts during the shooting. Blake Lively, the co-star, had complained that the men had repeatedly violated physical boundaries and made sexually and other inappropriate comments to her. Their studio, Wayfair, agreed to provide a full-time intimacy coordinator, bring in an outside producer, and put other safeguards on set. In a side letter to Miss Lively's contract, signed by Mr. Heath, the studio also agreed not to retaliate against the actress.

The New York Times's favorite trick is implication over information—ah, this one is a classic. The New York Times doesn't have to outright say Baldoni and Heath are guilty; they just have to imply it, and they do it masterfully in a few sentences. Last summer, as the release of *It Ends With Us* approached, Justin Baldoni and Jamie Heath hired a crisis public relations expert. First trick: drop crisis PR in the first sentence to make them look shady right from the jump. What they don't tell you is that every major studio and public figure pretty much hires crisis PR in Hollywood, especially if they're dealing with any type of potential litigation or anything where you're like, "Hey, my Spidey senses tell me that something might go down—like let's prepare for this." And that's not a gotcha moment; that's called having a career in Hollywood. But the New York Times frames it like Baldoni and Heath were panicking over some bombshell allegations. Then we get this: During the shooting, Blake Lively, the co-star, had complained that the men had repeatedly violated physical boundaries and made sexually and other inappropriate comments to her. Okay, notice anything? No specifics. What boundaries? What comments? They don't say. There's no proof. They don't cite receipts, just that Lively said it happened. Okay, she complained. No nuance. Baldoni and Heath's side—oh, don't worry about all that. And this is a part that kills me: Their studio, Wayfair, agreed to provide a full-time intimacy coordinator, bring in an outside producer, and put other safeguards on set. You see how, like, that is—if you're just a regular person reading this at home, your brain automatically assumes that Baldoni and Co. were—were forced to make these changes because of inappropriate behavior, but that's not necessarily true. What they don't tell you is that intimacy coordinators—they're completely standard in Hollywood. Baldoni already had one from the start. These safeguards were not just some punishment; they were business as usual, but they leave all of that out. You see how they framed it? They make it seem like the intimacy coordinator was hired after the complaints were made, because they know the average person reading this does not work in Hollywood, so they let the reader assume the worst. And that's the dirty trick. They don't have to prove anything; they just have to suggest it and let the public run wild. And the best part: if Baldoni sues them over this paragraph, they can just turn around and say, "We never said he did anything; we just said—uh—that Lively complained about it." You get it? This is how the media plays this game. So let's get to the next paragraph.

But by August, the two men, who had positioned themselves as feminist allies in the #MeToo era, expressed fears that her allegations would become public and taint them, according to a legal complaint that she filed. According to the legal complaint—you see that—not according to the New York Times—according to the complaint—uh—that she filed on Friday, right? Like, "Oh yeah, we just got our hands on it." No, they've been doing—they were—who knows? If I had to guess, they were coordinating with Lively's team far before the article dropped, even before the—like metadata evidence that has come out, I would guess. Uh, it claims that their PR effort had an explicit goal—this is Lively's complaint—is what the New York Times is saying—it claims that their PR effort had an explicit goal to harm Miss Lively's reputation instead. Oh, this is a classic New York Times move: set up a contradiction that doesn't actually exist and let the audience fill in the blanks with suspicion. They don't have to outright say Baldoni is a fraud or Lively is the liar; they just have to imply it and let the court of public opinion do the rest. So let's break that down. The New York Times says Baldoni and Heath branded themselves as feminist allies, but then—gasp—they were worried about being accused of misconduct. What's the implication here? That if you publicly support women, you shouldn't fear false allegations? That if you believe in #MeToo, you must be guilty if someone accuses you? That's insane. You can believe in protecting women and also not want your entire career torched by a baseless article, right? Both things can be true, but the New York Times doesn't want you to think critically; they just want you to eat it all up—whatever they're dishing out. They want to plant the idea that Baldoni was a performative feminist until it didn't serve him, and that's exactly how they framed me. Speaking of #MeToo—#MeToo, by the way—you guys like my new sweatshirt? These are available on the website. Anyway, this is exactly how they framed me. They painted me as someone who claimed to want to help young creators, but then—oh—there were claims that I was a bad manager. That's it. That's the whole setup. They didn't prove anything; they just made it sound like my entire mission was suspect, just like they're doing with Baldoni now. Let's compare their playbook side-by-side. On Baldoni: He presented himself as a feminist ally, but was afraid of false allegations—suspicious. On me: She said she wanted to help young creators, but some creators claim she was exploitative—suspicious. You see how they do it? They take whatever you stand for and make it sound like a convenient cover for whatever their anonymous sources say you did. And the best part: they never have to prove a thing; they just set the stage so you look like a hypocrite.

Now let's talk about the real contradiction here. The New York Times paints Baldoni's concerns about false allegations as some kind of secret admission of guilt, but last I checked, the New York Times literally has an entire department dedicated to avoiding defamation lawsuits. By their own logic, if Baldoni was guilty for protecting himself, then what does that say about the New York Times covering its own ass every time they write a hit piece? The truth is that when you go up against a machine like the New York Times, they don't just challenge your side of the story; they challenge your right to have a side at all. And they do it in a way that makes sure the public will never give you the benefit of the doubt, because in their world, the accused is always guilty. We're onto this playbook now, and we're not buying it.

Her filing includes excerpts from thousands of pages of text messages and emails that she obtained through a subpoena. Listen to that right there—that she obtained through a subpoena. These and other documents were reviewed by the New York Times. Ah, vague sourcing BS that should trigger your little BS-o-meter. Here's the other trick: they hide behind weasel words. The New York Times says, "According to the complaint and thousands of texts we reviewed"—thousands of texts, but whose texts? Baldoni's? The interns'? They won't say, because they're journo-splaining. They throw big, scary numbers at you and words that sound official, hoping you won't ask for receipts. This is a tactic—just remember that part. They don't tell you—so you're reading the article, you're just a regular person, you're reading the article, and they're like, "How do we know all this happened? Because we have thousands of messages," right? What do you think that makes you think? If you don't know anything about the story, it makes you think that they got Justin Baldoni's messages to prove that. That's what I thought at first, until I read it in plain English. It doesn't say that. It just says that there was a subpoena, but it doesn't say like who did they subpoena, what did they get—like nothing. No, you don't need to know that—no, not important. Okay.

The smear campaign playbook revealed: There have long been figures behind the scenes shaping public opinion about celebrities through gossip columns, tabloids, and strategic interviews. The documents show an additional playbook for waging a largely undetectable smear campaign in the digital era. Oh, New York Times—they're just getting real down and dirty. They—they can't wait to—to learn about how these smear campaigns were—pay no attention to the fact that they invented them, right? This is rich coming from the New York Times, the publication that has made an art form out of destroying reputations on behalf of crybullies with power. They invented the smear campaign and wielded it against plenty of people—men like Baldoni, sure, but also women—yes, me—and let's be real, many, many others. They don't just report on smear campaigns; they run them. But here they are, really blowing the lid off this one—"the bury her" text. This is a New York Times article. He wants to feel like she can be buried. A publicist working with the studio and Mr. Baldoni wrote in an August 2 message to the crisis management expert, Melissa Nathan: "You know we can bury anyone." Miss Nathan wrote. So in the beginning of the article, they hit you with: "Her filing includes excerpts from thousands of pages of text messages and emails that she obtained through a subpoena, and these and other documents were—were reviewed by the New York Times." And what does that sound like? That they have direct texts from Baldoni and Heath saying all these shady things, and that the New York Times' big, fat legal team reviewed them, so of course it's practically confirmed—you know—by the—by the journalism Gods themselves, right? That's the reaction they want you to have. But let's talk about what they don't tell you. The only messages they actually have from Baldoni and Heath are the ones from group chats where PR people were present. The rest—those so-called bombshell texts—those are from a separate PR group chat where Baldoni and Heath weren't even in it. And guess what? The New York Times doesn't make any effort to clarify which messages came from where, why? Because that would ruin the illusion, guys. Take the "bury her" text—okay, this is a good example. The way the New York Times presents it, it sounds like Baldoni himself was plotting in real time to destroy Blake Lively, but when you actually look at the messages, you realize he wasn't even in that conversation. It was PR people talking amongst themselves—probably half-sarcastic, probably just venting about their job while still getting paid to clean up Lively's PR mess, right? And the cherry on top is a huge chunk of these messages are just PR people celebrating the fact that the public was already running with the anti-Lively narrative on their own, meaning a lot of this so-called orchestrated smear campaign was just Lively's own bad press working against her, while her own messy interviews gave the internet all the fuel it needed. But—but does the New York Times explain that context? Because this isn't an article about informing you; it's about framing the narrative that they want you to believe. All right, next.

PR offensive and media manipulation tactics. In the following weeks, Miss Nathan, whose clients have included Johnny Depp and the rappers Drake and Travis Scott, went hard at the press, pushing to prevent stories about Mr. Baldoni's behavior and reinforce negative ones about Miss Lively. The text messages show—again, they obfuscate their responsibility by saying, "Well, the text messages show this; we're just reporting on the text messages that—that already exist." I already know how they're going to get out of this lawsuit, guys. It's—it's just how they do it. This is classic New York Times playbook. Okay, the text messages show Jed Wallace, a self-described "hired gun," led a digital strategy that included boosting social media posts that could help their cause. Boosting social media posts that could help their cause—is this illegal to boost a post? I boost my posts sometimes. Like, how do we boost them? You boost them sometimes—your friends on the internet—they retweet you—you get boosted—maybe you got some press in the media—everybody boosts stuff that helps their cause. What are you talking about, New York Times? How's this—how's this malicious? Sounds malicious, doesn't it? This is classic New York Times playbook: guilt by association. They still haven't detailed what Baldoni actually did to make Lively uncomfortable, because let's be real, if they had something genuinely damning, it would have been right up top, right up front and center. Instead, they're deep into the article already, moving past proving guilt and straight into the juicy part—the smear campaign. And how do they make it sound extra nefarious? By throwing in some very scary names—Melissa Nathan, whose clients have included Johnny Depp, Drake, and Travis Scott. The goal here is obvious: you see, these are the kind of people Baldoni's team hires—that's what the New York Times is saying. They're like, "See, these are the kind of people that Baldoni's team hires," because if someone has worked with controversial figures before, obviously that makes them shady, right? Never mind the fact that crisis PR firms work with literally everyone in Hollywood. And Blake Lively's PR gal—she was funded by Harvey Weinstein, but they didn't want to talk about that. Let's just put that aside. Let's not talk about that. Should we put that in? Nah. No. I—I can't believe that there's not one person like on this editing team like, "Hey, guys, don't—don't you think that maybe we should—like say something about this?" No, no, no. Nobody—nobody wants to speak up against Megan Twohey from The New York Times, and she has a Pulitzer Prize for the #MeToo movement. Who would dare—who would dare say, "Hold on a second, guys, are we sure we want to do this?" The goal here is obviously: these are the kind of people Baldoni's team hires, because if someone has worked with these controversial figures before, obviously that makes them shady. Then they drop Jed Wallace, a self-described "hired gun," led a digital strategy that included boosting social media posts that could help their cause. First of all, "self-described hired gun"—what is this, a Tarantino movie? They're literally just branding him like some kind of rogue mercenary. In reality, digital strategy is what PR firms do—boosting positive press, making sure your client's side of the story is visible, countering negative narratives. That's not a smear campaign; that's reputation management. And meanwhile, the New York Times has spent zero time explaining the actual substance of Lively's complaint, because they don't have to; they've already decided Baldoni is guilty, so now the story isn't about proving his wrongdoing; it's about how he tried to cover it up. Uh, excuse me while I go throw up real quick. All right, back to the New York Times.

An attorney for Wayfair said in a statement to the Times that the studio executives and public relations representatives did nothing proactive nor retaliated against Miss Lively and accused the actress of another desperate attempt to fix her negative reputation. "These claims are completely false, outrageous, and intentionally salacious, with an intent to publicly hurt and rehash a—a narrative in the media," the lawyer, Brian Freedmen, wrote. Yes, the look-we-were-fair section. This is a standard New York Times move: bury the denial quote deep in the article after pages of framing Baldoni—or in my case, me—as some—uh—obsessed villain. So by the time you read it, your brain is already trained to dismiss it as damage control. This isn't included to actually provide balance; it's included so they can later say, "See, we gave them a chance to respond." Here's how they do this: Step one: frame the quote as predictable. They make sure to place the statement after they've spent paragraphs laying out their case against Baldoni. That way, when Freedmen, his lawyer, responds with, "These claims are completely false, outrageous, and intentionally salacious," it sounds like exactly what a guilty person's lawyer would say. You see, this is a psychological trick. At this point, the audience has already bought the New York Times version of events, so any denial just reads as PR spin. Step two: use a fairness buffer. Notice how they sandwich Freedmen's statement between more framing. Right before they quote him, they remind you: "Another desperate attempt to fix her negative reputation." PR translation: Before we let Baldoni's team speak, just remember Lively is the real victim here. It's the same move they pulled on me. "Miss Jacob has conducted herself with the utmost professionalism and courage." That's what my lawyer said. Oh, okay, so she's just gonna say that she's great and that the people accusing her are cowards. Of course she would say that. It's subtle, but it primes the audience to dismiss the response before they even read it. And step three: weaponizing typos and technicalities. Now this part really gets me. When my lawyer, Ben Walter, pulled an all-nighter responding to their questions—we had like very little time to respond as well—he accidentally misworded a sentence. This is what he wrote in an email to the New York Times; they quoted him. He said, "These individuals attacking her don't want to play by the rules of decent individuals in society, but want to attack Miss Jacob publicly from the shadows." One typo—that's all it took. The New York Times ran with it, turning it into some weird contradiction, like, "Oh, how can you attack someone publicly from the shadows? That doesn't make sense." They knew what he meant. There were people attacking me publicly and people doing it behind the scenes—like the influencers who sent dirt to the New York Times but wouldn't go on record because they knew they'd look shady, breach their contracts, and likely get sued. But instead of clarifying that, they used a single typo to discredit my entire lawyer's response. What's the final takeaway on the lawyer's response? This is not about fairness; it's about ticking a box—include a denial so we can claim balance, but place it where it won't change the reader's mind. That's important. And if there's a typo—even better—we can mock them for it. It's fake objectivity, a trap disguised as journalism, and it's shameful.

Back to the New York Times. Mr. Freedmen did not address her allegations about misconduct during the filming by Mr. Baldoni and Mr. Heath. He alleged that Miss Lively planted negative and completely fabricated and false stories with media about Mr. Baldoni, which he said was another reason why Wayfair Studios made the decision to hire crisis professionals. So let me get this straight: the New York Times is calling out Freedmen for not addressing Baldoni's alleged misconduct while also refusing to provide any actual proof of said misconduct. Make it make sense. They say, "Mr. Freedmen did not address her allegations about misconduct during the filming by Mr. Baldoni and Mr. Heath," because you never laid out those allegations in any real detail. The New York Times doesn't say what Baldoni supposedly did—yet he really doesn't. They just say she accuses him of some—some stuff that sounds really bad. They don't cite corroborating witnesses—like who are they? What did they say? What scenes did he add? Like, what—what—explain it to me, please? Doesn't explain why these claims didn't surface until now—nothing. By the way, the Netflix movie is out, so if she's like, "Yeah, remember that scene in the movie where blah blah blah happens? Yeah, I didn't agree to that," or, "You remember that scene in the movie that we chose? It's because I cut out this terrible part where he had me do this terrible thing," she doesn't say that. They just state that Lively said it happened and expect us to take it as a fact. But the second that Freedmen shifts the focus to Lively allegedly planting negative press—"He alleged that Miss Lively planted negative press"—right now, suddenly they want evidence. Let's talk about why that's hilarious. The New York Times knows that Freedmen can't prove that Lively planned stories. How do they know that? Because they have this little thing called journalistic privilege. All journalists have that, especially with mainstream media. That means if Lively or anyone on her team fed them—or Hollywood Reporter or whoever—if they fed them hit pieces against Baldoni, the journalists don't have to disclose it. They could have been actively working with Lively's camp to shape that narrative, and if Baldoni's lawyers tried to subpoena those communications, the New York Times would just say, "Sorry, it's a protected source," and boom—no one would ever know. That's how they get to throw around vague accusations with zero proof but demand absolute receipts from anyone pushing back. That's the double standard, and it's absolutely wild. The New York Times can say Lively said she felt uncomfortable—no proof required—but Freedmen says, "We think Lively strategically planned negative stories"—they're like, "Oh yeah, prove it." This is how they play the game. They create an uneven playing field where their word is enough, but their opponent's word means nothing. It's the same game they played with me. The New York Times heavily implied that I was some kind of corrupt manager based on the word of influencers who had every reason to twist the truth. Not every one of them spoke badly about me, but apparently the ones they talked to—you know—they said mean things about me. Did the New York Times demand proof from those influencers? No. Did they let me subpoena their communications to see how the story was shaped? Of course not. The New York Times is hiding behind journalistic privilege while demanding impossible standards of proof from the people they attack. It's the perfect setup. They don't have to prove a thing; you have to prove everything, and if you can't, then I guess you're guilty, right? This isn't journalism; it's a rigged game.

The effort to tarnish Miss Lively appears to have paid off. Within days of the film's release—within days of the film's release—the negative media coverage and commentary became an unusually high percentage of her online presence, according to a forensic review Lively sought from a brand marketing consultant. Miss Lively, who is married to the actor and entrepreneur Ryan Reynolds of *Deadpool* fame and is close with Taylor Swift, experienced the biggest reputational hit of her career. So what I'm saying here is that—you know—somewhat in the middle of the article, they're telling you that the effort to tarnish Miss Lively appears to have paid off within days of the film's release. The negative media coverage and commentary became an unusually high percentage—negative about her after the film. Well, yeah, because wasn't that right after she had come out at the premiere and said all this weird stuff? And then the article Christy flaw—like this is why Freedmen had to release the timeline, because people are confused—like when did all this stuff happen? Yeah, would make sense that people—that there was an unusually high percentage of her online presence being attacked, according to a forensic review she sought from a brand marketing consultant. So she's saying a brand marketing consultant said, "Hey, after the movie released, a lot of people were talking bad about you online." Well, yeah, no [ __ ] Sherlock. What? That's when she was saying all the off-color remarks that people didn't like. Miss Lively, who is married to the actor and entrepreneur Ryan Reynolds of *Deadpool* fame and is close with Taylor Swift—oh my gosh, they're like her dragons—let's just knock these out—let's just show how like powerful she is—experienced the biggest reputational hit of her career. So at the end of the article, they say a brand marketing consultant, Teret, produced a report in August for Miss Lively that concluded she had likely been the object of a targeted, multi-channel online attack. Targeted, multi-channel online attack—that just means Instagram, like Google—I don't know—what does that—what does that mean? Targeted, multi-channel online attack sounds bad, right? Similar to one against Miss Heard—oh, so Johnny Depp bad guys are doing it again—and that it was damaging to her reputation. The report did not identify who was behind the attack, but by analyzing the entirety of Google's search index for Miss Lively's name, it found that 35% of the results also included a reference to Mr. Baldoni. This was highly unusual given the length of her career, the company said, and suggested that the media environment was being manipulated. A separate report by Miss Lively's hair care company, Blake Lively Brown, concluded that the social media onslaught also had a negative effect on that business. Her product line, which had launched in August with record-breaking sales, estimates that it lost as much as 78% in sales. Okay, so remember that. So now we're going to go back and let's look at Teret, because this is one of the things that you guys should do is: who were the sources? Who is the—who are these experts? Let's—you know—let's dig into them. So I go on Teret's website—let's talk about them. Blake Lively's team hired them to figure out why all the negative articles were dominating her search results, and what did Teret find? It says that they found that 30% of online buzz about Lively also included Baldoni's name, and the New York Times frames it like this is a gotcha moment, but this makes total sense. How do I know this? Because I used to sell SEO. Does anybody here know what SEO is? Probably not—probably not the New York Times readers either. SEO is search engine optimization. How SEO and reputation management actually works—well, let me explain it to you—learn with me. Okay, SEO, or search engine optimization, is basically internet PR. The internet never forgets, but SEO makes sure it remembers what you want it to. You can't erase bad press, but you can bury it—how? You flood search results with fresh, high-ranking content. You push the bad stuff down. That's what happens if you have reputation management. They're basically SEO on steroids, because on the first page of Google, there's 10 listings, so if you have one bad listing and it's at the very top, then that means you gotta have 10 good articles that are high-ranking to push it down. So the fresher, more authoritative, and more clicked-on article is the higher it ranks. Old drama fades into internet oblivion, so does old good press as well. This is why Lively had a problem. Blake Lively was at her *Gossip Girl* peak before social media took over. She wasn't constantly going viral. Her fan base wasn't made up of Gen Z TikTok warriors. There wasn't enough new buzz to refresh search results for positive press around Blake Lively, so when people Googled her name, there were old articles and then there was like all this new stuff that was not so good. You get what I'm saying? Old interviews, outdated coverage—that gets pushed down, and the new stuff—it gets pushed up if it's in *People* magazine or *US Weekly* or whatever. And that's why the bad press stuck. It's why they're saying like 30% of her—she's been around for so long—yeah, but she wasn't around during the social media world. You get what I'm saying? Here's why SEO sort of worked in favor of Baldoni, although we don't know if he was controlling it—it's really hard to control SEO. You could push positive articles; meanwhile, um, Baldoni's fans and Lively haters were actively generating new content. There were more articles, more interviews, more social buzz. SEO is a game of volume; more content equals more control over what ranks. And every public figure does this—every brand, every politician—they want to get positive articles that outrank the other ones. But the New York Times—they make it sound shady because Lively essentially got outranked.

Now let's talk about why a New York Times hit piece is an SEO nightmare. If the New York Times writes a hit piece about you, it's like a bazillion times worse. Not all PR nightmares are created equal, and Blake Lively had some bad press—like we can agree that she had some bad press, right?—but she waged this war with the New York Times on Baldoni, and I don't know if people realize what the outcome of that is—like 100% of the time—well, let's just call it 99% of the time, because not everybody has a billion dollars to just throw away at suing the New York Times, even though they may or may not think they're going to win—but it's like the only way to get your reputation back is to try to fight them. And I remember when I sued the New York Times after they completely destroyed my dreams—like my hes and everything—and made me feel so weird, because anytime I was around people—and my personality is outgoing—I would think to myself, "Oh my God, what if these people find out about the New York Times and they think I'm like fake or narcissistic or shady?" I didn't even want to be around people and act like—I felt like I needed to be like a nun everywhere and not even have a personality—God forbid they believe what the New York Times says—just totally made me question everything I did, and it just sucked. And so I felt for Justin—like it's—yeah, it's—when he said it was cruel what they were doing—it is cruel what they do—what the New York Times does. So Blake Lively had bad press—people didn't like her hair care launch, they thought her wear-florals promo was tone-deaf, and she was mean in an interview once—that's all survivable. That's a *Daily Mail* article; that's some TikTok drama—it fades. But a New York Times #MeToo expose—or what they did to me—that's permanent. Google doesn't treat all content equally; it ranks sources based on authority—meaning some publications hold way more weight than others. If the *Daily Mail* says something shady about you, it's annoying, but it's the *Daily Mail*; people just move on. If TikTok thinks you were a mean girl once, that's embarrassing, but the algorithm forgets. If the New York Times labels you problematic, that's forever, because when someone Googles your name—boom—page one, baby. And unless you have an elite SEO team working around the clock—even then—that article is going to follow you for the rest of your life. This is the power of the New York Times smear campaign; their SEO juice is unmatched. There's no other website that I can even imagine out there that's ranked higher on Google than the New York Times. Baldoni is not unscathed here; he got a nuclear option launched at him, and now, unless he fights back with everything he has, this is what the internet will remember about him. And trust me, I know exactly what that feels like. When the New York Times came for me, I had people telling me to change my name, just start over, pretend I never existed, because once they've decided that you're the villain, good luck getting anyone to work with you again. I thought about it every single time I went on a date, every job opportunity, every professional conversation, because all it takes is one Google search and boom—there it

A pre-lawsuit formality. It hasn't been investigated yet, unless your lawyer is Brian "The Equalizer" Fredman. Cases like this take years to even get to discovery. Discovery is when both sides get receipts. You have to turn in all your text messages and all that stuff. And let's not forget, she chose not to file an HR complaint during filming.

I see a lot of people repeating this line: he did something with HR, he messed up with HR. And then Lively chose not to file an HR complaint during filming because an official HR complaint would have triggered an onset investigation in real time. It's something. If something was truly urgent, why did she wait? She waited until the movie was already out on Netflix. Would it be totally crazy to think that this was a strategic move to wrestle control of the movie away from Wayfair? Because if the internet and Fredman had gone into action with Sarah WZ billions backing them, the next step would be Sony, in my opinion, slopping that morality clause on Baldoni.

Remember that morality clause? Yeah, we're going to enact that, you're out of here. Speculation, sure, but let's be real, the timing is sus, and I called that quite a while ago, guys. The whole morality clause potential—a lot of people in Hollywood, when they signed contracts with big studios after the #MeToo movement, there were morality clauses put into their contracts, and then they were sort of used by the studio if there was like another reason they didn't want you anymore, whatever. And you know how I clocked this the second I heard it was just a complaint? Like I knew what was going on because the New York Times pulled the same exact stunt on me. I know, I'm just making this—everything is about me, isn't it? So this is the same playbook, different target.

When the New York Times smeared me, they propped up a labor board complaint from Britney Broski like it was some major revelation. Their version was: this influencer files a complaint against Ari; she acted as a talent agent without a license. Here's a reality check: I did have a talent agency license, and more importantly, you don't even need one in order to rep TikTokers. You think the everyday mom and dad at home reading the New York Times know that? No. And now here they are, running the exact same scam with Lively's CRD complaint. They omit key facts and frame it as a smoking gun when, in reality, these complaints don't even have to be proven to cause massive damage.

Here's my favorite part: Lively says she hopes this pulls back the curtain on sinister retaliatory tactics. Girl, your team worked with the New York Times to drop a PR attack disguised as journalism. The only curtain being pulled back is the one hiding how powerful people use the media to burn their enemies to the ground. And what's even more predictable, she denies planting negative stories about Baldoni, knowing full well that the journalistic privilege means that there's likely not a huge way that Baldoni's going to be able to prove that either. Sound familiar? Yeah, because they did the same thing to me. I know it's like a broken record; I keep saying that, but it's true. I want you guys to see the pattern here. The New York Times' favorite move is framing contractual obligations as sinister.

So in the hit piece about me, they let an ex-client say this: "Anytime talent wants to leave, she [Ari] goes straight to suing them." Another person said, "I have asked her to release me from my contract." Let's think about what that actually means, guys. The influencers didn't want to pay me what they owed, like the agreements that they signed—how it was going to work. They wanted to break a signed contract without consequences. These are people over 18 years old; they had lawyers when they entered into the contracts. I didn't force them to sign the agreements; they had lawyers. And the New York Times framed it like I was the villain for expecting basic business agreements to be honored. Notice the language: they don't say explicitly that I scammed anyone; they don't say I stole anything because they didn't. They don't want to be sued; they just imply that I was difficult for not working for free, which, let's be real, I could do this too, right? Oh, did the New York Times expect a Latina woman, a Mexican woman, to build something successful from scratch and just work for free? That sounds racist. Yeah, you see what I did there? That's called framing. I don't do that; okay, I don't use my ethnicity or the fact I'm a woman to play victim because it's BS. Okay, no, but that's what they did. They framed these influencers as these poor, poor innocent people that got taken advantage of when, in reality, they were just trying to cheat me out of the money that I had earned.

Now compare that to how they frame Lively's CRD complaint. They don't tell you what misconduct she's actually alleging; they don't explain how any of this is proven or corroborated. They just drop vague buzzwords like harassment and retaliation to let your brain fill in the blanks. And the best part: they let Lively deny planting negative stories about Baldoni without pushing for proof either way because they know journalistic privilege means there's no way for Baldoni to disprove it. This is how the New York Times protects its chosen ones while annihilating everyone else.

In May, several months after the filming wrapped, Mr. Baldoni realized that Mr. Reynolds had blocked him on Instagram. "We should have a plan for if she does the same when the movie comes out," Mr. Baldoni wrote of Miss Lively in a text exchange that included Miss AEL, a publicist who has long worked with him and Wayfair. "Plans make me feel more at ease," that's the only thing that they quote Baldoni as saying. "Plans make me feel more at ease." Baldoni didn't say, "Let's ruin her." He said, "If she blocks me, how do we handle the PR fallout?" I mean, which, considering the media circus around this, is just common sense.

And let's talk about why did Ryan Reynolds block Baldoni in the first place? Had Lively already been feeding the media narrative before the movie even dropped? Classic framing trick. And you know, make Baldoni look calculating for—checks notes—preparing for bad press. Meanwhile, the actual bad press maneuvering never gets a second look. I mean, like, how long was Lively talking to the New York Times? That's what I want to know. I guarantee you it was before October 31st.

Background on Baldoni and studio context. So then they get into this: Mr. Baldoni, 40, and Mr. Heath, 55, had a lot riding on the film, which is based on a best-selling novel by Colleen Hoover. Mr. Baldoni—okay, and here's what they don't say: they don't say it was a best-selling novel by Colleen Hoover about DV and it had a lot of sex scenes in it and a lot of, you know, stuff. I mean, maybe they do later on, but let's keep reading. So if you're just reading this and you don't know what the movie is about, you're just like, "Oh my gosh, Baldoni sounds like a jerk." Mr. Baldoni was best known for the CW satirical romantic dramedy Jane the Virgin. Wayfair provided the resources for bigger ambitions; it was bankrolled by the billionaire Steve Sarowitz, who is co-chair of the studio with Mr. Baldoni. They and Mr. Heath, the chief executive, are all deeply involved with the Baha'i religious organization, which promotes unity, peace, and gender equality. Mr. Mr. Baldoni has presented himself as an ally to women, writing books, co-hosting a podcast with Mr. Heath, and giving talks on toxic masculinity. Oh wow, a whole paragraph just to subtly sneak in a smear against an entire faith. Sarowitz, Baldoni, and Heath are Baha'i, a religion literally centered on unity, peace, and gender equality, but the New York Times frames it like a culty boys club funding Baldoni's bigger ambitions. And let's be real, if this were about any other religion, they would have never written it like this, but Baha'i doesn't have mainstream power, so the New York Times casually taints it by association, like a subtle, "Isn't that interesting?" moment. It's a small dig, but a big mistake. Huge, you could say.

I'm going to take a leap and say Mr. Sarowitz didn't like that very much. Lively, 37, was by far the biggest star. The TV show Gossip Girl catapulted her to early fame, and she appeared in films ranging from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants to The Town. She built businesses outside of the entertainment industry, appeared on the covers of glossy magazines, and amassed more than 45 million Instagram followers. Miss Lively had expressed concerns about Mr. Baldoni from the beginning, according to her legal complaint. Before shooting began, for example, she objected to sex scenes he wanted to add that she considered gratuitous. Okay, which ones, guys? Because I still—which ones did she say no to? Has anybody gone through like the 800 pages of that timeline yet online? Okay, she objected to sex scenes he wanted to add that she considered gratuitous. In November 2023, as the cast of It Ends With Us was preparing to resume shooting after a month-long writer's strike, Miss Lively went to Wayfair with a side letter—safeguards. Yes, we all know about that letter, right? Not an official HR complaint, but a letter of demands. Plus, it's—oh look, it's the obligatory Blake Lively puff piece.

Okay, let's break that down. She's by far the bigger star, okay, and this isn't like a popularity contest. They list her entire IMDb page like it's some resume. Cool, but that was this relevant to the lawsuit, the complaint? They casually slip in her 45 million Instagram followers just so you know she's really popular because nothing says credibility like a big follower count, right? And then buried—buried at the end—we get the real setup: Lively had concerns about Baldoni from the beginning. Vague, no details. She didn't like the sex scenes. Again, fine, but was there an actual HR complaint? Like we know that typically these things are like negotiated upfront. She's talking about a kiss to her neck or like a little brush to her neck with Baldoni's mouth because in the book, apparently everybody's saying that Riley, the character that Baldoni played, was obsessed with Lily's neck because she had a tattoo. La—I don't know, some fan fiction stuff with the Colleen Hoover book, but it's not like he went off course during a humping-each-other scene. Okay, it's wild. Anyway, she went to Wayfair with a side letter demanding safeguards after the strike, after the movie—she's saying was a mess. Well, maybe it was a mess because she was asking for all these things that are not normal, but here's what's missing: context. Because the New York Times isn't here to educate you on how movies actually work. They don't want you to think critically; they want you to think Baldoni sucks. Okay, since when does an actress get to rewrite an entire movie? Lively didn't just voice concerns; she completely took over—she rewrote scenes, allegedly, re-edited entire cuts, allegedly, forced the studio to use her version of the film instead of the director's. It had better reviews with a women audience that was testing the film. Imagine if Tom Brady decided mid-season that he just didn't like Bill Belichick's game plan and instead of following the coach, he just rewrote the entire playbook and then smeared Belichick when he pushed back. That would never happen because in football, the coach is in charge. Same thing here. Baldoni was the director, the producer, and the co-chair of the studio; he was literally hired to be in charge, but Lively decided that because she was the bigger star, she could override him. And now we're supposed to pretend like that's normal. No actual evidence of Baldoni harassing her, no mention that intimacy coordinators were already in place, no real context, just a carefully framed hero-villain setup. And the best part: they phrase it like Baldoni wanted to add sex scenes out of nowhere when, in reality, it's a movie about romance and DV and all these different things. The source material had sex, but that's not even the scenes that we were even talking about. I don't know, maybe I could be wrong, but she's talking about like a dancing scene where he like brushes up on her neck for a second. But why explain that when they can just make him look creepy instead? And now there's a whole website with Blake's texts showing her saying things that teeter on sexual—not to mention Ryan Reynolds talking about tattoos and his perineum. I don't know how to say that; I don't ever want to hear that word again.

All right, wrapping up: how to read between the lines of a New York Times hit piece. So we just went through 15 things most people completely missed in the New York Times Justin Baldoni article, and guess what? We're only halfway through. The article is a masterclass in manipulation, and if you don't know what to look for, you will fall for it every single time. So let's talk about the takeaways because if you don't want to get played by the media, you need to start reading articles like a lawyer or somebody who's gotten a hit piece written about them—not like a fan. Here's how you spot media manipulation in real time: pay attention to sourcing. If they say, "According to the complaint," but never show the actual receipts or the actual evidence, red flag. If they rely on anonymous sources close to the situation, assume it's either PR spin or complete nonsense. Look at how they frame things: Baldoni wants a PR strategy equals he's an evil mastermind; Lively demands an entirely new cut of the film equals brave and bold. Same action, different framing—that's how they control the narrative. Notice what's missing: they imply Baldoni was inappropriate but don't tell you what he actually did; they claim his PR team buried Lively but don't say what stories they allegedly planted; they call a standard crisis management strategy a smear campaign but leave out that every A-list celebrity and politician does the exact same thing every day, and the New York Times knows all about it.

How I learned to dissect an article like this: listen, I had to learn the hard way when the New York Times came for me. I had to sit there and figure—fig out exactly how they twisted words, omitted facts, and framed things to make me look as bad as possible. It was like reverse-engineering a crime scene after the fact. And now I never take any article at face value, even when someone like Diddy, who has had rumors swirling for years—I still took a step back and said, "Okay, let me see for myself." Then the Cassie lawsuit dropped, and the security footage leaked, and guess what? That's when I was like, "I'm 100% done." I don't like Diddy, not because some headline told me to, but because I saw the evidence with my own eyes. That's how you avoid being a pawn in someone else's PR game.

Coming soon, trust me, we're not done yet. We still have half of this article to go, and I guarantee you there's even more framing, omissions, and straight-up nonsense waiting for us. So if you want to keep your media BS detector sharp, make sure you're following because this breakdown isn't over yet. Until next time, guys. Listen, breaking down media manipulation like this takes time, research, and a whole lot of caffeine. The New York Times—they've got billions of dollars backing them. I've got the truth and an internet connection. If you want to help me keep exposing how the media twists reality, here's how you can support: you can like, comment, and share this video. The more people see it, the harder it is for the media to get away with their playbook. If you want, please drop a comment, share this video, and send it to a friend who needs a wake-up call. You guys know engagement is everything. And make sure you're following me everywhere: Little Miss Jacob on X, on Twitter, TikTok, all the places. The more people that see these stories, you know, it's harder for the New York Times to go unchecked, and hopefully, people do unfollow them.

Steve Sarowitz—I think he's a hero. Okay, we'll get into that next time, but honestly, if he wasn't doing what he's doing with what I'm assuming is backing this lawsuit all the way—like it's just—you don't see this happen very often where the New York Times gets exposed because it's so expensive and it's so difficult. If you know Steve Sarowitz or anyone in Hollywood looking for their next screenplay, shoot them my account. Farah survives this. I have some ideas. I am writing a book, and also, I don't know if you guys know this, but if you need help with short-form content, my agency, CreatorGenius.com, helps small and medium-sized businesses fix their tragic social media. If your dentist's Instagram looks like it was made in 2012, please tell them I exist. And also, merch is live. Head to LittleMissJacob.com for my book; we're raising money to get it made and the latest Cry Bully collection, including the "Okay, Cry Bully, the Struggle is Fake" hoodie and everything else I've got in the works. LittleMissJacob.com. At the end of the day, the media only gets away with this if people let them, and I'm going to make sure they don't. So there's more to come. Love you, besties.