Thursday, February 05, 2009

A Page From A Diary

This just in: Apparently, during a time of war, the Bush administration had people spying on journalists.


It's not as if there were an extremely long history of foreign political groups using the press to undermine their enemies abroad. If there was, then governments should be spying on journalists (especially during times of war).

It is not as if other governments fund organizations like Voice of America (established during the Roosevelt Administration and currently broadcasting in 46 languages) to provide a government sponsored version of news.

It is not as if the press itself has legions of people wandering around with cameras, microphones and note pads shuffling through garbage cans and rifling through reams of documents and emails in efforts to gain influence or to attack their political enemies.

The idea that the government would be keeping tabs on a multi-billion dollar industry that spies and reports on government seem Un-American.

What would the founders say?

Err, by "founders," I mean the mythological founders that exist in our imaginations. The actual people who founded the United States (like Franklin, Adams, Washington and Jefferson) probably would agree with the idea that the government needs to do some tracking of the press to guard against foreign influence.

Anyway, since I was thinking of the press this morning, I decided to sneak into her bedroom where I stole a page from the diary that she keeps on her night stand. I present the page below:

Thursday, February 5, 2009.

Dear Diary,

It's me again, the press.

I am feeling lonely and distraught today and have been coming unnerved with feelings that he no longer loves me.

Or that he never loved me as much as I loved him.

Maybe he never loved me at all. Maybe it was all just a charade.

But it couldn't have been just a charade.

I can remember those hot steamy flights on his airplane as we jet-setted from town to town. He would make wonderfully seductive speeches to the commoners, but he would always come back to my warm embrace.

He told me that they were nothing but small town hicks clinging to their guns and religion. I have no religion ... other than an unwavering belief in myself.

Then, there was that wild jubilant party in Denver where I stood next to him and pledged my loyalty. We looked so beautiful together standing among the Greek Columns on stage. The party was followed by a dreamy election and even wilder parties.

Doesn't he see? The triumph was as much about me as it was about him. How else could a person win a national election on such a completely vacuous message? It was him and me together. Surely he knows that!

It was my whispering purr words in his direction and snarl words in the direction of that horrid Hillary and wicked McCain that won him his election.

It was my unflinching loyalty and not his mono-syllabic campaign for "Change."

Oh, I could have asked him to say more than one syllable. But I didn't. I could have asked for him to actually have platform ... but then people would have voted on issues and he would not have ascended.

Doesn't he see? We were a team!

.. and, then there was that glorious time on the beach, when he took off his shirt off and the sun glistened off his chiseled pectorals.


I thought we had a marriage made in heaven.

But, now he is spending his days with influence peddling tax cheats. Even worse, he has been making moves toward her …

What does he see in her [The American People] that he doesn't see in me [The Worldly Liberal Press]?

She is an overweight fickle buffoon whose fancy flitters from one sweet-talker to the next. She even loved Bush once. She even loved Bush.

I am sleek, sophisticated and worldly. I have so much more to offer than her.

I imagine how wonderful it would be if it was just him and me in the cozy little White House. The world would be at our fingertips.

Yet today I find myself shuffled off into a corner room where a pumpkin-headed fast talker rationalizes about the day's events. It feels so tawdry.

I feel that he is bypassing me, while he gives her stimulus packages, hints that hew will pay for her abortions, and other fancy gifts.

I am dismayed and forlorn.

I am sure that this is just a phase. He can't love her. She will never be as good to him as me.

But if he doesn't give me the love that I demand … well, let's just say I could turn on him. I could turn on him in a fierce way.

Hell hath no fury as a Liberal Press scorned.

After all, look what I did to his predecessor Bush … I agitated and manufactured discontent to the point that Bush is now numbered among the greatest villains of all times.

I did that.

I engaged in a deliberate effort to undermine and destroy that horrid Bush.

I could do the same to Obama.

But, no! I know that he loves me. Just as I love him. He must love me for I have surrendered up every last morsel of my heart, my soul and my integrity to him … the one.

The biased American Press

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