Wednesday, August 27, 2008

more on the insipid american media...

Back when Tim Russert died, my brother sent me an email asking me my thoughts &/or feelings on the passing of the alleged icon. Sorry to my brother for I ripped him a new porthole, sputting my yellow, mucusy bile across my laptop screen in the process (in case you ever wanted to borrow it) over the likes of Tim F'ing Russert. Of course everybody just lovvvved Tim Russert -- low-information lovers, they -- where even my Mom could no longer tolerate another of my frothings without furiously pointing the TV remote at me and jamming on the mute button.

And as the email had more than a few cc's, most of the recipients were rendered begging to be taken off the exchange. I guess I'd rather be right than president.

Anyhow, I'm glad I'm not alone in my contempt for Russert and/or the rest of the D.C. gang of too many insipid pundits. Jerry and Joe Long give aid (h/t to Greenwald):
What would Tim think? Gee Brian that's a toughy...he'd probably think what you think and Stephanopoulos thinks and Gibson thinks and Brokaw thinks and Couric thinks and Blitzer know...somewhere safely inside the parameters of debate. Maybe for divergent views there'd be a round-table with David Broder drooling fossilized idiocy and Jon Meacham spouting biblical idiocy and Matalin and Carville encapsulating idiocy at the genetic level.

Meanwhile, Richard Cohen likes the Joe Biden pick because he saw John McCain dance with Jill Biden "on the terrace of the sublime Villa d'Este on the shore of Italy's stunning Lake Como." If Hunter Thompson were alive he would kill himself again.

Well, there y'go. I feel less insane now, thanky.

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