Oh, it’s a fairy tale all right.
Once upon a time, the FBI said some thugs planned to rob a bank in town. Thugs are always looking to rob banks. They try all the time. But at this particular time, the FBI was hyper-focused on potential bank robberies in this particular town.
The best way to prevent the robbery — which is the goal, after all — would be for the FBI to alert all the banks in town. “Be on high alert for suspicious activity,” the FBI could tell the banks. “Report anything suspicious to us. We don’t want you to get robbed.”
Instead, in this fractured fairytale, the FBI followed an oddly less effective, more time-consuming, costlier approach. It focused on just one bank. And, strangely, it picked the bank that was least likely to be robbed because nobody thought it would ever get elected president — excuse me, I mean, because it had almost no cash on hand. (Why would robbers want to rob the bank with no cash?)
Read on; the Last Real Journalist waxes ever more clever with her premise from there, winding up with a closer that makes the rubble bounce.
Sharyl Attkisson has more integrity in one discarded toenail clipping than almost all the rest of her “journalist” colleagues combined. In fact, referring to them as her colleagues feels uncomfortably close to slander, since what they do for a living has little or nothing in common with her work.