My ass felt compelled to post today regarding the 3rd Anniversary of the Iraq War.
A bitch is going to do a wee little exploration from the perspective of a press addict.
This bitch is not a reporter. My ass is, however, addicted to the news. Yes, a bitch uses a lot of sources to get my fix…yes, a bitch doesn’t believe everything that comes out of the mainstream press…no, you are not the only one who understands that 'truth in journalism' is relative and who can question authority.
Having said that, a bitch adores watching the news! Shit, this bitch doesn’t trust anyone who doesn’t consume some manner of news product…it’s just not natural (wink). So, when the war started this bitch was knee deep in the coverage and shocked as a motherfucker at the gleeful consumption of spin-based bullshit that was going down across the board.
During the pre-war bullshit blitz, the press was obsessed with maintaining a tone of doom and dread. Anyone who questioned the evidence was willing to put American lives at risk! And anyone who questioned the logic was un-American and practicing the art of appeasement. It is easy to forget how much the mainstream so-called liberal press fell into lock-step with the administration on this war. By the time Colin Powell testified at the United Nations, the press was tired of the fore-play and willing to get down to bitness.
And then we went to war. Eager reporters imbedded themselves among the troops, with images of Murrow Awards dancing in the heads. Shit, who can blame them! This was their big moment…a war…the kind of tragedy reporters dream of covering. But the sad reality is that war is easy to find…the appeal of this war was the guaranteed ‘big finish’. After all that fore-play…all the teasing and caressing and softly murmured promises…the press was in full rut and in need of guaranteed satisfaction.
Everything was in place. The spin. The embellished fears of massive poisoned gas attacks that made the decision to wear a gas mask for every report less 'Geraldo Rivera' and more prudent-like. Troops were willing to be interviewed and generals were talking trash.
Shit…you were there, right? It was like watching the first hour of Patton!
Who knew we’d be watching Platoon three years later?
The press was legitimately shocked when bunkers packed to capacity with WMD weren’t located. They were dismayed when the full on bloodbath they had been led to believe would take place turned into a quick and non-orgasmic occupation. And they were disgusted when the looting began, as if western armies had perfected the art of war…as if desperate times no longer lead to desperate actions.
Month after month, a bitch observed the press searching for their nut.
And month after month, this bitch observed the uncovering of a massive scab…the puss of ineptitude, ego and ethnocentric disdain…the shame of flawed intelligence…the floundering of misplaced loyalty and trust…the sad and sorry pathetic reality of the limits of military aggression and the tragedy of learning that shit all over again.
The press slowly turned into the angry unsatisfied lover. They creatively overlooked their own eager submission to the power of spin-based seduction.
They look back and think…we were misled!
A bitch looks back and thinks…you wanted to be.
The affair between the governmental spin machine and the fourth estate has ended.
Add the press to the list of 'seriously wounded' during the Iraq War...
...rehab could take years.