Now matter what an anonymous writer to the New York Times wants to call it, getting free rent, an unlimited line of credit and a “company car” in exchange for a “mutually beneficial arrangement” is what I call prostitution. You may pretty-up the job description by throwing in terms like “sugar-daddy” or “benefactor”, or, dare I say it, “employer”, but the end result is the same — you’re exchanging money for sex, and that’s clearly the common definition of a prostitute. I’ll save the deeper ethical questions for another day, but let’s not kid ourselves about what’s going on here. I realize that times are tough these days and it’s hard to make ends meet as a college student. Still, if you’re going to school for a career in journalism, you ought to at least be willing to admit that if you look like a duck, walk like a duck and, yes, quack like a duck than guess what — you’re a duck. A journalists’ first duty is always to the truth, and if you’re not willing to admit the truth about yourself, how can I expect you to tell the truth about someone else?