Late into the night, a bitch tumbled into sleep with thoughts of truthiness spinning through my Afro…
…and I dreamed a little dream about Rupert Murdoch and his dream-based pet gargoyle, Sebastian.
Citizen Murdoch sat upon his gilded thrown watching his minions from on high through the massive multi-screen security system he has in his home-based area where he makes sure his minions aren’t trying to think for themselves.
He turned to his companion, a re-animated pet gargoyle named Sebastian.
“Son, it really bothers me that there are people out there who are saying traditional news vehicles are dying. Why are they trying to think and understand shit? Why aren’t they just tossing money at me and my advertisers when I tell them to?”
“Yes, Master! You are so right! You are, as always, so very wise! Sebastian adores you and your super-duper Citizen Kane on steroids, minus the wicked cool camera angles, ways!”
Murdoch smiled absently.
“I’m going to tell the people about themselves!”
“Oh, yes Master!” Sebastian responded as he has been trained to. “Yes!”
Murdoch turned to his computer and began to write…
“I am smarter than all of you. You must accept this. You must stop trying to resist me. You are not strong enough or wise enough to win!”
Sebastian licked his lips while clapping his hooves.
“I give you the information I think you should have the way I think you should have it. I give you conservative pundits and personalities all pre-programmed to maintain your fear and confusion so I can continue to dominate you – for this you should thank me.”
Murdoch paused, glanced at his security screens and then pushed a large red button. A laser beam popped up and swiftly zapped an intern trying to fact check an article, vaporizing the youth in a single shot.
With a satisfied grunt, Murdoch turned back to his computer.
“Journalism is what I say journalism is. And I should be allowed to own as many information vehicles in as many markets and mediums as I want…for the sake of freedom!”
He paused…considered...and then continued.
“I don’t mean that weak ass freedom your teachers taught you about in during those dangerous civics classes they used to teach in those evil public schools. No, I’m talking about my definition of freedom - that I, Rupert Murdoch, should be free to do whatever I want and own whatever I want where I want to the way I want to for ever and a day.”
Sebastian nodded and then settled down to watch his Master work.
“Government is the enemy…unless government is giving me the right to own a lot of shit without any oversight. When this nation's founders got their founding on, they built on the solid foundation of a free and informed citizenry that can be manipulated by those of us who have the power to select what information they get and suppress the information we don’t think they should see. Our founders understood that an informed citizenry requires news that is independent from government...with the exception of those times when I allow conservatives to rant... but under the thumb of one true Master – me, ‘cause I’m gonna own everything eventually.”
“Oh master, you are so wise…so very, very wise!” Sebastian injected.
“The basic truth remains: To make informed decisions, free men and women require News Corps and our pundits to provide speculation dressed up to look like news about events affecting their countries and their lives. Whether the newspaper of the future is delivered with electrons or dead trees is ultimately not that important because the most important thing is that I control more and more of the industry until I ultimately control everything plus your hearts and minds!”
Sebastian, excited and ever supportive, jumped up and down.
“Master, where will you send this masterful work of brilliant truthiness so that the masses to read it and learn from it?!?”
Murdoch saved his document and then hit send.
“Why, the Wall Street Journal of course. They’ll print it, son...they have to seeing as I own their ass.”
Sebastian replied, confused… “But why not send it to all of your many outlets and then do a podcast and
then….ouch…oh, the pain!!” He cried out as Murdoch struck him down with one swipe of his hand.
“You fool! What did I tell you about thinking?”
“Oh Master! Oh, me is so sorry! I should never think…never ever think. Sebastian so sorry!!” the gargoyle sobbed.
Murdoch sighed and then reached out and stroked a hand over Sebastian’s knotted brow.
“That’s better. Son, sometimes I wonder what the people would ever do without me around to lead them?”
Eager to please, Sebastian responded… “They’d suffer through the horrors of a truly free and legitimately independent press delivering accurate news and valuable information , Master!”
"Good boy!” Murdoch said and tossed Sebastian a fresh bone.
And that's when a bitch woke up.