That noise in the background is Robert Novak, the self-styled Prince of Darkness, doing what he always does--nipping at politicians while barking away to call attention to himself.
Instead of slinking off after his Valerie Plame dump on the national carpet, the old dog is still up to his ancient tricks, this time befouling Presidential candidates of both parties.
Weekend before last, he stirred up a Clinton-Obama spat by writing that "agents" of the Clinton campaign had been "spreading the word in Democratic circles that she has scandalous information about her principal opponent." After smearing both Democrats with anonymous dirt, Novak went on Fox News to stand by his "scoop," while admitting it came to him third-hand with no confirmation.
This week Novak is outing Mike Huckabee as a "false conservative" who is really "a high-tax, protectionist, big-government advocate of a strong hand in the Oval Office directing the lives of Americans."
After half a century of "reporting," Novak seems to get most of his dope over expense-account lunches these days and, judging from his past gushes over Fred Thompson, the Huckabee smear may be coming from that direction.
Come to think of it, the canine metaphor may be misplaced. Novak is more of a handy hydrant for political operatives' leaks.
Showing posts with label Celebrity journalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Celebrity journalism. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Milestones in Media Muck
Those who have tears to shed for our culture can reach for the Kleenex now. Today we have hospital workers scrambling to publicize George Clooney’s medical records after a motorcycle accident and a magazine cover showing a bare-breasted Hillary Clinton being nuzzled by hairy-chested Rudy Giuliani behind the bare butt of a reclining Barack Obama.
It barely seems to matter that Clooney’s accident actually happened while the political threesome is a product of photoshopping from the overheated imagination of sleazy magazine editors, justified as commentary on presidential campaigns as “lengthy spectacles...relentlessly contrived and overproduced.”
The motto of Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” was “Everybody belongs to everybody else,” but we seem to have left that behind several Paris Hiltons ago.
On second thought, forget the Kleenex. Bring in the puke bucket.
It barely seems to matter that Clooney’s accident actually happened while the political threesome is a product of photoshopping from the overheated imagination of sleazy magazine editors, justified as commentary on presidential campaigns as “lengthy spectacles...relentlessly contrived and overproduced.”
The motto of Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” was “Everybody belongs to everybody else,” but we seem to have left that behind several Paris Hiltons ago.
On second thought, forget the Kleenex. Bring in the puke bucket.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Empty-Calories News
The New York Times is too dignified for silly-season journalism, August fluff when the world slows down. But this year, especially from Washington, there is a lot of fact-free fare.
The other day, there was “Competitors, Once Collegial, Now Seem Cool,” about Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Today we get “First Father: Tough Times on Sidelines,” 31 paragraphs of empty-calories reporting about Bush 41 and Bush 43.
Based on “interviews with a broad range of people close to both presidents,” the piece reveals that the elder Bush “finds it tough to watch his son get criticized from the sidelines.”
From a combination of rehash, such as Bob Woodward’s anecdote about Dubya consulting only a “higher father” before invading Iraq, and dribble from new interviewees, that criticism of the elder Bush’s son “wears on his heart and soul,” we get the equivalent of what editors used to call a “thumbsucker,” a rumination devoid of news.
That used to be the province of columnists and commentators but now is disguised as reporting--and tenuous reporting at that. The Hillary-Barack scoop had to be followed by a correction of one of its few anecdotes: that “after the State of the Union address, Mrs. Clinton took a circuitous route past Mr. Obama not to avoid him, but to accommodate a television producer.”
As the old “Front Page” crowd used to say, this stuff is dynamite.
The other day, there was “Competitors, Once Collegial, Now Seem Cool,” about Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Today we get “First Father: Tough Times on Sidelines,” 31 paragraphs of empty-calories reporting about Bush 41 and Bush 43.
Based on “interviews with a broad range of people close to both presidents,” the piece reveals that the elder Bush “finds it tough to watch his son get criticized from the sidelines.”
From a combination of rehash, such as Bob Woodward’s anecdote about Dubya consulting only a “higher father” before invading Iraq, and dribble from new interviewees, that criticism of the elder Bush’s son “wears on his heart and soul,” we get the equivalent of what editors used to call a “thumbsucker,” a rumination devoid of news.
That used to be the province of columnists and commentators but now is disguised as reporting--and tenuous reporting at that. The Hillary-Barack scoop had to be followed by a correction of one of its few anecdotes: that “after the State of the Union address, Mrs. Clinton took a circuitous route past Mr. Obama not to avoid him, but to accommodate a television producer.”
As the old “Front Page” crowd used to say, this stuff is dynamite.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Ugly Obsession: Seeing Through the Stars
Celebrity journalism has always been the ultimate oxymoron. Journalism is about truth, celebrity is illusion. But now neo-fan magazines and web sites have pushed the contradiction to a new level, seeking what Virginia Heffernan calls “evidence of monstrosity.”
The TV critic of the New York Times writes: “Like so many other 20th-century American institutions, Hollywood beauty is now regularly treated as a fairy tale only for dreamers and chumps. Readers with any sense are supposed to recognize its strategic function but otherwise acknowledge it as a lie. The availability of plastic surgery and the widespread use of tooth bleach and self-tanners and finally the photo manipulation that any grandma can do to brighten up her Canon PowerShot photos has somehow made even transcendent beauty manifestly suspect.”
Debunking beauty is surely satisfying to the mean-spirited and ugly of soul, but is that what’s become of all of us?
I take an old man’s pleasure in looking at Michelle Pfeiffer. Diane Lane and Scarlett Johansson, and no voyeur with a magnifying glass is going to take that away from me.
Heffernan ends up being of two minds about “dismantling fantasy,” but her analysis is devastating. She has been one of my favorite critics ever since she described me as an “ashen-faced talking head.”
The TV critic of the New York Times writes: “Like so many other 20th-century American institutions, Hollywood beauty is now regularly treated as a fairy tale only for dreamers and chumps. Readers with any sense are supposed to recognize its strategic function but otherwise acknowledge it as a lie. The availability of plastic surgery and the widespread use of tooth bleach and self-tanners and finally the photo manipulation that any grandma can do to brighten up her Canon PowerShot photos has somehow made even transcendent beauty manifestly suspect.”
Debunking beauty is surely satisfying to the mean-spirited and ugly of soul, but is that what’s become of all of us?
I take an old man’s pleasure in looking at Michelle Pfeiffer. Diane Lane and Scarlett Johansson, and no voyeur with a magnifying glass is going to take that away from me.
Heffernan ends up being of two minds about “dismantling fantasy,” but her analysis is devastating. She has been one of my favorite critics ever since she described me as an “ashen-faced talking head.”
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