Willie Geist is just another jerk like Chris Wallace -- a lightweight who has the job he has because of his father. At least Mike Wallace has some serious journalistic cred; William Geist is known for dumb puff pieces on
CBS Sunday Morning. At least Geist Sr's pieces are never mean-spirited. Yesterday Geist
fils decided to interview bloggers at the Democratic National Convention to find out about these
"Cheetohs-eating, Star Wars-worshipping bloggers who live in their mother's basement."Cheetohs? Really?
I thought we were latte-sipping, Volvo-driving, arugula-eating elitists. I thought it was Real Men ate Cheetohs and drank Coors while watching football before going out to Wal-Mart in their Hummers.
Kudos to Bill Scher of
Liberal Oasis, who does the Weekend Watchdog at
The Campaign for America's Future, for not punching that sniveling little rat-faced git in the face. I'm not sure I would have met Mr. Geist with as much good humor.
The DNC is sort of like the Super Bowl -- you can't decide if you wish you were there or if you realize you're far more comfortable sitting at home on the sofa with a can of Hansen's Diet Tangerine Lime soda. Not that there was ever an issue of me going; the DNC doesn't exactly give credentials to solo bloggers with only 500 visitors a day. This isn't like Netroots Nation, where anyone with a few hundred bucks can buy a ticket. But I'm grateful to those bloggers who made the cut and are covering the convention. Because without them, all we'd have is a picture of a contentious group of disgruntled Hillary supporters and a Party Divided™, brought to us by a parade of Joe Scarboroughs and Chris Matthews, unable to hide their fury at their network's new star, and
a parade of wingnut pundits brought there by the networks for the specific purpose of defecating early and often in the party punchbowl.
Labels: bloggers, hack journalism, real journalism
Wallace not knowing which preconception is which demonstrated just how successful he really is as a journalist.
(Consider, for the sake of historic insight, Jonathan Swift. Not many know this, but his classic Gulliver's Travels was actually a satire on men and politics, with the notion of such being Healthy Reading for Children being an afterthought made fact by later editors who heavily expurgated the whole.
(And let's not forget Swift's Predictions for the Year 1708, written as "Isaac Bickerstaff" "to prevent the people of England from being further imposed upon by vulgar almanack-makers"--as in a satire exposing how guillable certain people could be falling for the "prognostications" commo in the "almanacks" of the time, with that of one John Partridge coming in for especially sharp, yet satiric, criticism throughout.
(And there's also his series known as the Drapier Letters, taking exception to the issue of a 3d coin by the British for the Irish trade, and the means by which the concession to coin same from a very poor alloy of bronze, copper and nickel was procured by outright bribery.)
Do we choose to ignore History @ our own peril?
The stadium speech is a gamble in a nation that judges candidates by who would be the best drinking buddy. But Barack flies on his oratory, & if white America doesn't like it there's nothing else he can do.
The Repug convention won't be half as interesting unless McCain picks a really unusual VP.