Gatesgate Moves MSM From the Tank to the Toilet

Left, Michael Crowley: Still a poster-boy after all these years.

As the dew dries to crusted smegma on the Obama rose, we need to find better metaphors for the Obamallationist media that's looking for a way to rinse the acrid taste out of their morning-after mouths.

Yes, with every passing day spin is getting more and more difficult and desperate for those that stapled their scrotums to the axles of Obama's juggernaut. To paraphrase their jug-eared idol,

"It seems that each successive yelp from the executive suites of these dying outlets has said, in the face of plummeting ratings, circulation and interest, that somehow these media communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it’s not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to reverse-racism or progressive-religion or antipathy to white people who aren’t like Democrats."

It's no longer enough to say these dead-enders are "in the tank for Obama." It's more accurate to say that these mediaocrities are "in the toilet for Obama." Head down, they flap frantically for the handle trying to get in one more good flush before the myth of Obama -- which once went twice around the bowl -- is swhooshed down into the deepest sewers of Foggy Bottom.

Asking Google memory about being "in the tank for Obama" returns 142,000 hits. Asking it about "in the toilet for Obama" yields but 6. This will make 7 and thus shall its tribe increase.

How can it not when the New Republic's Michael ("I'm writing as bad as I can") Crowley (No relation to the honorable cop) is on the job? Observe how this Yale Graduate tortures logic, reason and the English language with this gem of an "in the toilet for O" paragraph from Obama, Crowley, and White Guy Politics. If he'd written something so asinine as this during his years at Phillips Exeter he'd have been mocked from the Harkness Tables into the nearest dumpster.

"Now comes Sergeant Crowley. Conservatives could hardly ask for a more effective vehicle for this burgeoning narrative. While Joe the Plumber was an obvious moron, and Sotomayor too sympathetic and skillful to demonize, Crowley (no relation, sorry) is political gold. He is the hard-working white man who wears a uniform and risks his life for his country. Note that such a uniformed civilian hero is especially valuable for a Republican party which, through the fiasco in Iraq, has largely lost its monopolistic claim on representing the uniformed American soldier. And while it's hard to defend Crowley's arrest of Gates, he does seem to be winning the spin war over character and temperament (particularly after African-American members of the Cambridge police force came to his defense last week). Crowley also plays into the only theme conservatives like more than race, which is class. For Obama to be in the defense of a Harvard professor who summers on the Vineyard against a police officer who attends neighborhood softball games at night--particularly after Obama admitted during his first comments about the case that he did not know all the facts--is almost too good to be true, from the GOP's perspective."

The only thing "too good to be true" here is the intellectual insanity that slowly but surely hoists the writer with his own petard as he devulges, not the case against the GOP, but the shadows of his own twisted hates, shattering dreams, lickspittle lock-steps, and stunted ambitions.

He begins, as most writers who know sepaku is but a shot away, with the hackneyed-by-1912 legal phrase "Now comes _____ ." Deploying this trite locution always signals, "Yes, I have no transition because I'm gonna be spitballin' here so grab a pocket pack of Kleenex."

"Conservatives" is the next note out of his nose flute, and you can hear the signature Dragnet "Dum-de-dumb-dumb!" sound-file play as every DC-journo-climber's favorite villains are evoked to hisses from the assembled.

With that we're set for the phrase that pays, "burgeoning narrative;" as in a mere tale told by an idiot that swells portentously as the sentence closes. Once you've reduced a real incident, with real facts, and with real people, and with real tapes to a "burgeoning narrative" you can twist it, you can toss it, you can throw it o'er your shoulder like a continental soldier. It doesn't matter because as a "burgeoning narrative" what you write next doesn't have to be true or even make sense; it just has to stroke the groundlings in your comment section.

But first, you've gotta always strut your Yalie, white-elitist stuff in hopes of a hum job from Ariana Huffington should the New Republic crater. You assure those groundlings that "Joe the Plumber was an obvious moron," while kneeling at the shoes and licking the instep of a "Sotomayor too sympathetic and skillful to demonize." A bit salty perhaps, but at the New Republic you're used to licking boots so what's a little more gritty salsa on your tongue today?

Now you're set to reduce an actual person to the dross of "political gold" and ignore any and all facts that you don't have. It's very presidential to do so after all. Among these inconvenient facts are those that contradict at every turn your strange assertion that "a Republican party which, through the fiasco in Iraq, has largely lost its monopolistic claim on representing the uniformed American soldier." This is a real whopper coming from Michael Crowley who was at the dead center of the recent humiliation of The New Republic known as the Scott Beauchamp affair. That serial liar was probably the last "uniformed American soldier" that Crowley had any intimate contact with, and that only to oversee the alibi.

I would suggest to the woefully unlettered Mr. Crowley that if there is any "fiasco in Iraq" it is still to come and will be laid, not at the feet of the Republican party, but at the feet of the first president he gets, finally, to love with all his heart.

But this poster boy for "Media in the Toilet for O" has not yet begun to flush. Not at all.

No, this Gunga Din of DC needs to "put some juldee in it." So he takes a deep breath, slaps on a snorkel, plunges his head deep into bowl and jerks the handle with, "And while it's hard to defend Crowley's arrest of Gates..."

No, Michael, it is not hard at all. The facts do that admirably, as do Sgt. Crowley's colleagues and the assorted witnesses that have come forward. The only people having trouble with a defense are Gates, the president, and the toilet media swirling about him on this issue. The cry of "Racism!" is no longer a defense, but only a means of making money, gaining status and garnering attention; three things that seem to drive Michael Crowley as much as they drive all the other poltroons in this sordid "burgeoning narrative."

Crowley then is forced by facts to state at slant that Sgt. Crowley (alas) "does seem to be winning the spin war over character and temperament." Michael Crowley is so intellectually dead in spirit and insight that he can't understand that what's going on is not a "spin war" in which both sides seek to become "right." It is about what is true and what is not. It is an incident that has been decided on the facts in an instant by millions of Americans of all races, classes, and creeds with scarcely a backwards glance.

Indeed when Crowley writes "the only theme conservatives like more than race, which is class," he's not talking at all about conservatives but his own obsessed and chunky little karass at the New Republic and wherever else this decade's "particular people congregate" in DC. Race and class have played major roles in this incident but I think it is obvious, once we know "Who you're dealin' with," what the source of this is -- and this time it's not the conservatives.

This time it's Michael Crowley and his ilk. It's all those who are face down in the white bowl of race hustling shouting into their porcelain castle all the right code words. Words the country only hears as fading echoes.

Garbled paragraphs such as Michael Crowley's will shine forever only in the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind of Michael Crowley. He, like all the other members of the media in the toilet for Obama, underwent a brain wipe sometime during the campaign; a time when giving the pretender a pass on his past was a required operation if you wanted to keep your options open in Washington. And as we learn in the film, "technically speaking, the operation is brain damage, but it's on a par with a night of heavy drinking. Nothing you'll miss."

Posted by Vanderleun at July 27, 2009 11:02 PM