"Thanks so much" for wasting my time
As if we needed another reason to despise Elizabeth Vargas, look who just received the highest honor a flake reporter can receive: an invitation to the White House for a "conversation" with President Bush.
And hey, no way could this be a PR move–let's go right ahead and devote two-thirds of our evening news broadcast to it! After all, we wouldn't want to deprive a wider audience of such gems as "I got ample capital, and I'm usin' it to spread freedom" in response to a question about Bush's new all-time-low approval rating of 34 percent.
Watching the dueling phony smiles and blathering banter was bad enough, but when the president yammered on for several minutes about home, family and unconditional love, I was beginning to seriously regret deciding to eat dinner while watching the news.
Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh–I know it's been keeping me up at night wondering of our poor, fragile little vice president, in the aftermath of his "quail incident," "Is he doing OK?" Well, thanks to you and your pathetically exaggerated sympathy, Ms. Vargas, now we know he's surviving.
And I wasn't aware of this, but apparently, a foreign policy of waging frivolous, perpetual war is actually a coherent, visionary strategy of acting "as an agent of peace in the world," "laying the foundations for peace." According to future historians according to President Bush, at least.
Oh yes, and the important thing to know about Iraq is not that it appears to be descending into sectarian civil war, or that American soldiers revealed in a survey out today that the vast majority want to be out within a year regardless of whether the mission is accomplished, but that the president's policy regarding it has not changed, and therefore everything is fine.
Plus, as Ms. Vargas so astutely observed, we got to see that Dubya's desk in the Oval Office is really clean–and oh so very shiny! Why do I even watch this freak show any more?
To top it all off, they slap Charlie Gibson up on a balcony over Bourbon Street wearing a pink button-down shirt (and totally ripping off the black-scarf-around-the-neck my hot celebrity manservant started last month) to cover Mardi Gras, apparently the only other event of consequence going on in the world at present.
All it was missing were some fat, drunken revelers in the background waving beads and audibly shouting for him to take it off (or doing so themselves), and it would have been local news.
Somewhere, I would like to believe, Peter Jennings is giving that "what a load of crap, you fucking losers" smirk he smirked so very well.
And hey, no way could this be a PR move–let's go right ahead and devote two-thirds of our evening news broadcast to it! After all, we wouldn't want to deprive a wider audience of such gems as "I got ample capital, and I'm usin' it to spread freedom" in response to a question about Bush's new all-time-low approval rating of 34 percent.
Watching the dueling phony smiles and blathering banter was bad enough, but when the president yammered on for several minutes about home, family and unconditional love, I was beginning to seriously regret deciding to eat dinner while watching the news.
Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh–I know it's been keeping me up at night wondering of our poor, fragile little vice president, in the aftermath of his "quail incident," "Is he doing OK?" Well, thanks to you and your pathetically exaggerated sympathy, Ms. Vargas, now we know he's surviving.
And I wasn't aware of this, but apparently, a foreign policy of waging frivolous, perpetual war is actually a coherent, visionary strategy of acting "as an agent of peace in the world," "laying the foundations for peace." According to future historians according to President Bush, at least.
Oh yes, and the important thing to know about Iraq is not that it appears to be descending into sectarian civil war, or that American soldiers revealed in a survey out today that the vast majority want to be out within a year regardless of whether the mission is accomplished, but that the president's policy regarding it has not changed, and therefore everything is fine.
Plus, as Ms. Vargas so astutely observed, we got to see that Dubya's desk in the Oval Office is really clean–and oh so very shiny! Why do I even watch this freak show any more?
To top it all off, they slap Charlie Gibson up on a balcony over Bourbon Street wearing a pink button-down shirt (and totally ripping off the black-scarf-around-the-neck my hot celebrity manservant started last month) to cover Mardi Gras, apparently the only other event of consequence going on in the world at present.
All it was missing were some fat, drunken revelers in the background waving beads and audibly shouting for him to take it off (or doing so themselves), and it would have been local news.
Somewhere, I would like to believe, Peter Jennings is giving that "what a load of crap, you fucking losers" smirk he smirked so very well.
posted by Holly at 7:27 PM
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