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"In a time when newspapers are flat-out dying if not dealing with bankruptcy or massive job losses, while other types of news orgs aren't faring much better, the journalistic success of a comedy show rant shouldn't be viewed as a stick in the eye -- but a teachable moment."
I remember around the time of the invasion of Iraq, picking up a newspaper and having this sense of deadness in its pages. It was just...dull. The same old columnists with the same old false pictures of them in their youth--George Will, Richard Cohen, Thomas Friedman, et al. They must all be dead by now, I thought--and maybe they were. Maybe they had actually kicked the bucket, and the same old recycled tripe was still being scooped from the same toilets at the American Enterprise Institute, and funneled into the column spaces under the names of columnists who were actually dead. They all sounded alike anyway (dull tripe!), and they might as well have been from the same latrine. But, really, poop has more life than these dead writers, and the phony, hypocritical, pseudojournalistic imitation of 'news' articles--pretty much State Department and Pentagon cut'n'pastes--on the other pages, next to the bras 'n' panties ads -- had just gotten so obvious. You'd think the slaughter in Iraq would have been like a shot of pure adrenalin...and it was, sort of like Frankenstein getting juiced--zap, fsszt, zap, fsszt, zap, zap!--only not nearly as endearing as Frankenstein, cuz in this case it was the Zombie Walk of the Undead. At least Frankenstein had consciousness.
Even their little frenzies of excitement--"suspicious powder found in Iraq barn!"--"Al Qaeda's second in command" gets blown away by those "smarty pants bombs" of ours for the third, fourth...tenth time!'--or blonds in peril--read like daydreams out of the 9th Circle of Hell. 'This must be what life in the real world was like,' they seemed to be crying from dimming memories and fond wishes--our guys find the WMDs, our bombs get 'em again, our blonds are saved by our heroics and very grateful. And the rich shall be first, and the peons shall the last--as it should be. And the bras and the panties laced through it all.
So I stopped reading the newspaper and found DU. Now I only read occasional snippets, to rip it apart with penetrating analysis, or have a good laugh. Dead newspapers are memos from hell. That's why I don't read them. And now the classifieds are equally dead--no jobs, no money to buy anything anyway, and even the singles ads don't convey "change we can believe in."
So why don't they let their imprisoned reporters loose, to rip this society, and its pathetic democracy, and the hideous Bushwhacks and the collusive Dumbocrats to shreds? Maybe they'll find new life. Although you get the feeling they want to "drown" American journalism "in the bathtub" just like Grover Norquist wants to do to our government. You can tell they don't believe in the free marketplace of ideas. They would rather cram dull, dead shit down our throats, and go bankrupt, than risk real reporting.
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