I sometimes listen to Ian Masters, one of the few programs on Pacifica that I can stomach. Today he had James Wolcott on, pitching his new book in which he condemns "media poodles."
Aside from the usual Bush-bashing, one of Wolcott's explanations for what he thinks is reporters' pusillanimity toward W. is that if a reporter asks a tough question, bloggers will instantly cry for the scalp, claiming unfairness, disrespect, or treason on the part of the reporter.
Like most such accusations, this shows more than anything else how wounded poor Jimmy must be as a result of previous fiskings and blogmockeries.
Like this, this, this, this or this.
Why are the most unabashedly consumerist and "sophisticated" rags, such as the New Yorker and Vanity Fair home to the most obnoxious Ivy League Bolsheviks?
And why does a man who peddles a book calling reporters poodles quail at the thought of being questioned by a bunch of pajamahadeen? So many idiotarians. So many questions. So little time.
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