Today's portable telephone orgasm is only hours away from beginning, which makes this the perfect time to read this—an interview with someone who knows all about how Apple controls journalists.

In about a week, Apple will announce a new phone. This will become national news, and coverage of a piece of metal, plastic and glass will dwarf that of human suffering here and abroad. You've probably already read some exciting things about the iPhone 6, even though it doesn't technically exist yet, and is a "big secret." That's not an accident—Apple makes reporters do their advertising.

Some good ground rules for public relations: never call people the n-word. Never attach a virus in your pitch email. And definitely do not use the hideous race tragedy in Ferguson, MO as an angle for your fucking app.

In an ideal world, people would only make things that were good and that other people wanted to use. Until then, we've got public relations professionals who help pitch ideas like "PeepMe," an app for showing people how much money you spend.

One way to staunch the flow of disastrous news from your disastrous startup is not even having a PR person anymore: Fortune reports Clinkle's Ana Braskamp, who might've had one of the bleakest jobs on our planet Earth, is no longer at the company.

Recode's John Paczkowski reports Apple is looking for a new PR chief, and this time they should be a little nicer: "[Tim Cook's] paying particular attention to those he believes could put a friendlier, more approachable face on Apple's public relations efforts."

After 18 years of spin, Katie Cotton, Apple's magnetically ruthless vice president of worldwide corporate communications, has left her job, and tributes from the tech press are pouring in. What no one will admit is that we were all afraid of her.

There's nothing less sexy than tech public relations, except maybe incessant lewd texts from your coworkers. According to a just-filed lawsuit against OpenCommunications, PR flacks have combined the two, showering a colleague with sleazy advances and unwanted groping.

If you're the CEO of a startup that specializes in finding cheap, last-minute hotel rooms from your smartphone, don't send a young tech writer an unsolicited, bizarre signed photo of yourself and a bottle of wine.

An eye-opening look into the world of tech public communications: a reporter at Mission Local wanted to know what Google thought about being more hated than ever these days. Its (inadvertent) reply says it all.

The team at AOL's intrepid startup newsroom never shies away from thinly rewritten press releases—don't mess with a good formula. But today, TechCrunch reaches new heights/depths in the art: the press release as corporate fan fiction, imagining a cool new world in which Google replaces humans.

Not many people had ever heard about Paltalk, a group chat service, until it was mentioned alongside Facebook and Google during the initial PRISM scandal. Now, its PR team is using this scarce, horrible press as a hook.

The following email was sent in by a tipster at a large national newspaper. The real question, I think, is how many writers actually agree to "collaborate" on a story with a company? The answer is more than zero, and that's bad.

Not much to do with this one other than shake your head, wipe away a tear, and look into the distance, face blank. Sparkpr, which manages top tech accounts like Vevo, Rdio, and Dropcam, is having a 90s theme party, focused around one of the most disastrous aspects of the entire decade.

Larry Yu, who helped Mark Zuckerberg talk to his millions of cranky users and slobbering reporters for the past half-decade, just exited.

As the sun began to rise in New York, Katie Clark-AlSadder, Senior Account Manager at SHIFT Communications, broke my heart: my press credentials to Disrupt 2013 are revoked for no reason. It's time for the healing to begin—but what'd we do wrong?