The Press Is Too Easily Impressed
At the White House Correspondents' Association dinner, Laura Bush gave an obviously canned speech, written by a professional speechwriter, yet the media fell all over themselves, congratulating her for "her" humor. Frank Rich is one of the few to get the real picture:
Yes, Mrs. Bush was funny, but the mere sight of her "interrupting" her husband in an obviously scripted routine prompted a ballroom full of reporters to leap to their feet and erupt in a roar of sycophancy like partisan hacks at a political convention. The same throng's morning-after rave reviews acknowledged that the entire exercise was at some level P.R. but nonetheless bought into the artifice. We were seeing the real Laura Bush, we kept being told. Maybe. While some acknowledged that her script was written by a speechwriter (the genuinely gifted Landon Parvin), very few noted that the routine's most humanizing populist riff, Mrs. Bush's proclaimed affection for the hit TV show "Desperate Housewives," was fiction; her press secretary told The New York Times's Elisabeth Bumiller that the first lady had yet to watch it.
Actually, I thought the joke about trying to milk a male horse was a little over the line. Giving a horse a handjob might make for the guffaws in the local tavern, but at the Whitehouse correspondents dinner? Bleah. Low class.
Patrick at May 8, 2005 5:20 AM
Frank Rich is a bit dumb when he acts like he's caught Laura in a lie about watching Desperate Housewives. Her press secretary wanted to make it clear that Laura may joke about that trashy show, but in real life she'd never actually stoop to watching it. She's got too many serious things on her mind. Horse jism, for instance.
Lena "Milk Me" Cuisina at May 8, 2005 6:22 AM
This is not wrong in the technical sense, but it's not the kind of shit I want to hear from Frank Rich in the NYT. Jayson Blair was, after all, a deeply beloved Gray Lady employee, and being snarky about him demonstrates neither contrition nor any deeper awareness of the hubris of his bungles. Rich cites, without irony, Jonathan Klein --who for months (years?) flatly, baldly lied about authoring Primary Colors-- as the sort of industry pillar who can quickly change the topic back to Jeff Gannon and make it stick.
Franky, honey, are you fuckin' kiddin' me?
What sort of dickweed goes to the White House Correspondents' Association dinner, anyway? OF COURSE you're going to pretend to be amused at the humor from the podium. THAT'S THE POINT... People go to these things so that they can go back to their high school reunions in a couple of months and casually drop names and anecdotes, pretending to be an integral yet contrarian part of the governing process. People who attend such functions WANT to be co-opted by the machinery of power. What the fuck does it have to do with journalism?
It's pathetic. Consider the coda to this piece: Rich is tickled pinko that a cable channel cussed out loud 162 times. Are we supposed to admire his enthusiam for chilly, unvarnish truth-telling? It's a fucking cartoon.
Now I loves the Matt Welch, and have many personal friends in the media business (ahem), but pieces like this show the hollow core of journalism's most 'professional' aspiration. *That's* why they're dying, not a lack of standards.
I used to work for a basketball coach who had a saying: "Most of us learn to read and write at age seven, then move on to bigger things."
Crid at May 8, 2005 8:12 AM
If ad-lib is what we want as THE sign of wit and sincerity, why give someone else a pass when they speak of *important* matters via script? I can't wait for this person to actually be even-handed, now, and condemn Letterman and Leno - professionals, for goodness' sake - for using cue cards!
Sometimes hate is just hate. It certainly doesn't contribute anything to the speaker's argument.
Radwaste at May 8, 2005 3:06 PM
Ouch! Goddamit, I am so busted.
It was JOE Klein who gave us Primary Colors. Jonathon is the guy who gave us "pajama bloggers."
Yes, I'm ashamed.
But I still prefer the oceanic blue of Laura's eyes to the unblinking steel of Marcia Cross' peepers.
Crid at May 8, 2005 7:07 PM
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