Even Klavan—no Trump guy, he—can’t resist batting the squeaky little cat toy around a bit.
New York Times Publisher A.G. Sulzberger says he told Trump his anti-press rhetoric could lead to violence. But the media’s anti-Trump rhetoric already has led to violence: public officials rat-packed and bullied, Trump supporters harassed, White House spokes-lady Sarah Sanders having to live under guard. And yet when Sanders pointed this out to Look-At-Me-I’m-Jim Acosta, Acosta stormed out of the room. Hell, if he doesn’t want to hear the truth, he could just stay home and watch CNN.
What’s also appalling is that reporters answered Sanders by reminding her of the tragic shooting of journalists in Maryland. But that had nothing to do with Trump. It was the personal grudge of a madman. Even when these knuckleheads are protesting being called Fake News, they are purveying Fake News. Remarkable.
But most remarkable is this: the media seems to take no responsibility for the anger in the country. Not once — not one time — have I seen a reporter come onscreen and say, “Hey, you know what, maybe we are biased. Maybe we haven’t listened. Maybe we have been arrogant and insulting. Maybe we do bear some responsibility for the anger against us.”
When Muslim extremists destroyed the World Trade Center, David Letterman and others among the chattering classes went on TV and wondered: “Why do they hate us?” But they can’t take the time to ask the same question about their fellow citizens. The Islamists are murdering pigs. Who cares why they hate us? These Trump supporters are just ordinary folks. If they were screaming at me, I’d do a moral inventory on myself before blaming them.
Yeah, but see, you have at least a modicum of good sense and humility, Andrew. Which makes for a pretty stark contrast with those shitbirds.
Update! Walsh also puts the boot in:
The old journalistic ladder looked something like this: a year or so on the police beat in Dubuque, followed by a stint covering the local county and perhaps federal courts for a newspaper in Portland, and then, if the reporter was able enough, a job on one of the big-city papers in New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles. Not every piece had to have a political angle; not every lede needed to include a slighting reference to the president of the United States; not every opening graf needed to mischaracterize or refute the Republican/conservative position on any given topic. In fact, attitudinizing was strictly forbidden: it was talent that mattered, not the correct opinions.
Now the White House beat has become an entry-level reporting job, in the course of which the callowest of youths, or the most airheaded among the former beauty queens, can sass the objects of their coverage, mock them, call them liars, and generally act out in public. (Yes, Jim Acosta, we’re talking about you.)
This constant irruption of mindless prattle might be amusing were it not such a terrible commentary on the state of “journalism” today. And when the tables are turned, and the public gives the reporters a taste of their own crude hostility, the media freaks out and, of course, blames Trump, falsely claiming that a little civilian pushback against a group of people who openly despise them is somehow a direct threat to the First Amendment and might even get some reporters killed. The fact that, as far as I know, there has never been a single pampered White House correspondent killed in the line of duty, not only never seems to pierce the veil of their heroic fantasies, but it also dishonors the many great reporters who actually did die for their profession, among them Mark Kellogg (who died at the Little Bighorn with Custer) and Ernie Pyle, killed at Okinawa in 1945.
There’s precious little they don’t dishonor.
Updated update! OHH, talk about piling on!
Courtesy of WRSA.