Yesterday, Washington Post columnist and former Bush II speechwriter Michael Gerson played a long slow violin solo over the death of the mainstream media. There’s nothing new in his piece. Dazed with panic as the circle of financial ruin closes in, we’ve heard this song many times before from our ink-stained dinosaurs. And true to form, Gerson can’t break the mold. It’s all there, the rose-colored glasses, denial, and a heaping helping of rationalization.7-Up in my nose there.
Once again, from that familiar MSM perch where one can look down their nose at the great unwashed who just don’t understand the magnificent tradition of journalism they’re about to lose, Gerson blames We the People for no longer wanting to pay for our news and choosing partisan sources “that reinforce and exaggerate … political predispositions.”
How absurd.
Yes, it's absurd to have MICHAEL FUCKING GERSON as the champion of objectivity for the Washington Post.
And then Nolte comes along and doesn't get the little game Gerson's playing - the same game getting played here by some PBS asshole - and complains about it.
It's another case of reaping the whirlwind: Nolte's too stupid to applaud the infiltration yet another of his own team into the opinion-making machinery and he poops in the punchbowl while everyone watches. You watch too:
What profession could he possibly be talking about? Certainly not the same profession who set out to destroy Clarence Thomas, circled the wagons to save President Clinton, summoned all their resources to lose the war in Iraq, told us more about the background of an unemployed plumber than our current President, dragged Sarah Palin’s family through the mud, and on this very day refuse to investigate three of the biggest stories of the year (if not the decade): ACORN, CzarGate and ClimateGate.What item on that list tells you this man is something other than completely bananas?
Nolte in conclusion:
May they rest in Hell.I'll betcha a weak sissy PC liberal editor made him put "rest" instead of "roast".
26 comments:
Out of of that whole mess of pottage, what intrigued me most was the assumption (or the trope, or what have you) linking "long slow violin solo" to sadness. I was inspired to fire up Bach's sonatas & partitas for solo violin, and you know, NO SADNESS.
Nolte's writing would be vastly improved if he had compared Gerson to "a long slow tuba solo" instead.
Steyn also jumps at Gerson's assertions about the big MSM and yells about what he calls Warmergate.
"dazed with panic" AND wearing "rose-colored glasses" - sounds like the holiday season is nearly here
I have a mental image of an ink-stained, pink-lens bespectacled dinosaur playing violin while sitting on a perch.
I would like tigris's mental image-o-scope for $mas, please.
The chorus of those predicting bad things (read apocalypse) forms a daisy chain of proof to those that WANT, well, I dunno, this sort of biblical batshit to happen.
If you say it loud enough and long enough it turns into ACORNs
an ink-stained, pink-lens bespectacled dinosaur playing violin while sitting on a perch.
Not a Tyrannosaurus, however, on account of their forelegs being too short. Also I imagine them more as playing the bagpipes in a Flemish peasant scene.
Pretty sure it's not Apatosaurus, for that matter, either.
While it actually does seem likely that the farts of a 25 ton reptile might sound like tubas...
Not a Tyrannosaurus, however, on account of their forelegs being too short.
I'm sure they could beat the violins against a hollow tree.
...beat the violins against a hollow tree
col legno
"Music for Dinosaurs beating Violins against A Hollow Tree", a string quartet by John Cage. Not performed often enough IMHO.
Don't shoot the hadrosaur, he's playing as best he can.
There is strong evidence for evolution here. No plesiosaur could honk horns as tunefully as the modern seal.
You're neglecting the prehistoric "seal with arms"
honk a horn AND play the pipes, they could!
"Crossed swords with gold Seal with arms rampant trampling a serpent with a blindfolded virgin mummy in tatters bearing a cross, an olive branch and a vulture overlaid on a verdant field of grape and hemp, with mercenaries in guard towers and sheep destroying goat cultures....
It's my family crest!
A significant contribution to the extinction of dinosaurs was playing electric guitars in the rain, without using a proper isolating transformer.
Crossed swords with gold Seal with arms rampant trampling a serpent
You stole it from one of my books on the symbolism of alchemy.
Also, those goddam dinosaur sappers that would turn the Jurassic claymores around and then make loud, threatening trumpets so the hapless hadrosaurs inside the wire would panic and hit the clackers and...
Well, if you're buying the whole Chicxulub thing you've never seen a team of sappers break the perimeter, is all I'm saying...
The internet is basically a series of tubas.
The internet is basically a series of tubas.
Mangled up tubas?
~
I still listen to this every once in a while.
I would like tigris's mental image-o-scope for $mas, please.
Oooh, I'll trade you for the Clydoscope.
Cornelia Parker is the go-to artist for mangled-up tubas.
It occurred to me once that if you procured a bunch of crashed-up cars from a scrap yard, and suspended them on cables from the roof of a warehouse so they could turn in the breeze, you could call it a Collide-o-scope.
Or an auto-mobile.
Or flattened art lovers when the ropes broke
Curator: "Why, you're looking quite dapper today, sir".
Art Lover: "You flatten me."
EMT: "Get the rib spreaders and call for life flight."
Art Lover: "You flatten me."
"That's the last time I help Cornelia Parker prepare for one of her installations".
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