God, it’s been a great news week. On Saturday I think I read washingtonpost.com for nine straight hours. My perfect day. You’re welcome, Jeff Bezos #nativead.
When I am 70 and we are living under the regime of socialist dictator Jaden Smith, I will look back on this time and recall how the Medea, for so many months, took Donald Trump so seriously, as if he knew what he was doing, as if he could point to Mosul on a map, as if he had ever been in a locker room and didn’t have his balls individually wiped down by a silent aide in a private chamber after a round of golf. And then he was so gloriously undone by the almighty pussy, a word that must still be reckoned with because female genitalia is too controversial to be added to the AP Stylebook. :(
There seems to be a lot of disagreement about how we should be "conducting" ourselves right now. The politics of civility, a favorite subject of Aaron Sorkin, aka Leonard Riefenstahl, the writer of the most insane vehicles of government propaganda camp of which I have ever watched six episodes, keeps bubbling up on my favorite newsfeeds.
Men love civility, because it lets them control women and people of color, which is why it is a cornerstone of America's political process. Ditto “gravitas.” Gravitas is so boring. Civility and gravitas are what leads to human-teeth tumors like Donald Trump becoming actual candidates for president. As Christina Aguilera once said, “Let’s get dirty, that’s my jam/I need to, uh, get that off me.” She was talking about the Donald Trump pussy-grabbing comments… in 2002, she knew.
Anyway, these behaviors also control the media. It seems absolutely insane, in retrospect (hindsightis2020), that Trump was given even a sliver of the benefit of the doubt as a candidate for president, especially as an extremely public person whose life and insane yammerings have been extensively chronicled by Access Hollywood, Howard Stern, and his own Twitter account. Even the thought of comparing him to Hillary Clinton is crazy – it’s like putting a pile of dog shit next to a very smart nun and asking people to list the pros and cons of each.
Media outlets often attribute their dedication to objectivity to some sort of saccharine bond of trust with and a sacred responsibility to their readers. They say things like, “we care about our readers.” “We listen to our readers.” “We are a teat of information from which our readers suckle.” These are lies. Media outlets don’t care about their readers, they only care about their own asses, up which their heads are usually impressively far.
Media outlets often attribute their dedication to objectivity to some sort of saccharine bond of trust with and a sacred responsibility to their readers.
This can be excused, to some extent; responding to angry readers on Twitter isn’t exactly an expeditious use of resources. But the notion that news must be balanced to serve readers is not suited to these times, especially now that females, minorities, and millennials are legally allowed to express opinions online, thanks to the generosity of Jack Zuckerberg and Mark Dorsey.
Moreover, media outlets are not comprised of elected officials; journalists are only accountable to lofty edicts and the bronze busts of their outlets’ founders, which they are required to kiss when they enter and exit their office buildings. Therefore they don’t actually have to pretend to give a shit about whether readers need “balance.” Who cares! Journalists should only live to serve one god – Madame Truth.
There was a big debate among Professional Media Critics (there are four, my favorite is Erik Wemple #JeffBezos #nativead) about a month ago in regards to “false balance.” Reader, it was boring as hell. The conclusion, I will tell you from reading all their pieces, was that “false balance” should not get in the way of Doing Good Journalism. Good journalism, though, remains largely undefined, even by the Pulitzer committee and longreads.com. Frankly, I’m not sure what it is anymore. Was it the pussy scoop, phoned in to the Washington Post by a brave anonymous tipster (Tiffany Trump)? Was it Trump’s tax returns? Was it Howard Stern’s interviews with “The Donald,” all those years ago? Was it that nut who climbed Trump Tower with suction cups?
Maybe, my friends, the best journalism is America herself – a story that never ends.
Sign up to get Leah Letter in your inbox here.
