It was just mentioned to me by our esteemed speaker, "Did anyone say anything about the Cuban health system?"Many critics have focused on the racial aspect of Rep. Watson's remarks, in which she bashed Rush Limbaugh for his oft-misinterpreted "I hope he fails" remark about Obama. Watson said Republicans "are trying to see that the first president that looks likes me fails."
And lemme tell ya, before you say "Oh, it's a commu–" you need to go down there and see what Fidel Castro put in place. And I want you to know, now, you can think whatever you want to about Fidel Castro, but he was one of the brightest leaders I have ever met. [APPLAUSE]
And you know, the Cuban revolution that kicked out the wealthy, Che Guevara did that, and then, after they took over, they went out among the population to find someone who could lead this new nation, and they found . . . well, just leave it there (laughs), an attorney by the name of Fidel Castro . . .
Dear Ms. Watson: Barack Obama does not look like you, for which fact he should be eternally grateful.
And as much as I would enjoy unpacking what my old college buddy Bobby "The Hamp" Shearer would call your "signifying jive," it is far more important that your admiration for Fidel Castro and his murderous Marxist henchman, Che Guevara, be exposed as a species of subversive totalitarian propaganda.
Whether anyone is black or white, Jewish or Gentile, Protestant or Catholic, believer or atheist, gay or straight, native or immigrant, rich or poor is irrelevant to whether he is an American. Yet to deny the founding principles of this great nation -- as you, Ms. Watson, have done by your embrace of that ideology of evil known as Marxism -- is to deserve the contempt of every man and woman who would claim the high honor of being an American.
Assignment From the Site Meter
There were other things I might have done today -- oh, look, Ted Kennedy was a commie-loving traitor, too! -- but when I woke up, grabbed a cup of coffee, and checked my SiteMeter (the Small Blogger's habit I hope I never lose) I noticed traffic from Michelle Malkin.
Hmmm, had The Boss linked me? Well, merely a "Buzzworthy" sidebar link to my denunciation of Eric Zorn. Ah, but there on Mrs. Malkin's front page was her transcription of your remarks on this YouTube video:
Now, Mrs. Malkin is a journalist who has acquired fame and fortune by the most honorable of methods: Hard work. When we hung out in Denver a year ago, I had the opportunity to watch her live-blog the famous "Barackopolis" acceptance speech. The lady is a lean, mean, blogging machine. Her focus and discipline are an amazing thing to see.
Now, Ms. Watson, what does it mean that such a person as Michelle Malkin would devote even a small part of her precious allotment of time on this earth to transcribing your idiotic remarks? If there is any journalistic duty worse than transcribing audio, I don't know what it is. And I say that as someone whose early career as a small-town sports writer involved typing in bowling league results.
Having spent more than two decades clawing my way up from the very lowest rung of the American newspaper industry, having won awards and seen my reporting lead to legislative action in the halls of Congress, and especially having won acclaim as a top Hayekian public intellectual, I deeply resent it when at the advanced age of 49, I find myself required to do journalistic scutwork, as if I were some grass-green newbie "agate maggot" on the sports desk.
Old School Hayekian
Such are my feelings about transcribing audio. I'll do it if I have to do it. But whenever I'm cussing my way through a transcription, I always hear the inner voice of an Old School editor -- whom I picture in suspenders, sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned collar, loosened tie, an unfiltered Chesterfield hanging from the corner of his mouth and a pint of cheap whiskey in his desk drawer -- sharing a Hayekian insight:
Stop wasting your time on that crap, McCain. What the hell are interns for?Such is the Old Schooler's concern for efficiency, his Hayekian conception of the division-of-labor benefits of organizational hierarchy, wherein the experienced editor assigns menial duties to an unfortunate young flunky, so that the grizzled veteran may apply his hard-won skills where they are most needed.
Wes Pruden often wore suspenders although I never saw him smoke a Chesterfield and, really, who knows what he kept in his desk drawer? But Mr. Pruden didn't work his way to the top of the heap so that he could spend his day transcribing audio. At some point, an old newspaperman -- Mr. Pruden notoriously hated the word "journalist" -- has earned the right to assign scutwork to others.
Well, here I am in the blogosphere, in the New Media age where arrogant young know-it-alls think themselves too good to do scutwork. Every overprivileged 23-year-old punk fresh out of College Republicans is a pundit these days -- a commentator, a media critic, a political strategist, a regular by-God intellectual -- and heaven forbid anyone should expect one of these young geniuses to do the scutwork of mere reporting. (Anyone want to spot me an over/under on the total number of hours of his life Ross Douthat ever spent transcribing audio? I'd lay $20 it's less than 40 hours, and I'd bet the farm he's never typed in bowling-league results.)
Therefore, Ms. Watson, I considered it quite a marvelous and significant thing when, this morning, it came to my attention that no less a personage than Michelle Malkin -- the No. 1 New York Times bestselling author of The Best. Book. Evah! -- had assigned herself the scutwork of transcribing this bit of audio.
It would seem as if something utterly accidental and random has called you, Rep. Diane Watson, to my attention. And as every regular reader knows, I don't believe in accidents.
People who know how to hit a man's tip jar thereby acquire his special favor. So when I woke up this morning, Ms. Watson, I quickly discerned the ministry to which I was called to devote myself this day. You have unwittingly incurred the diligent performance of a most solemn duty, ma'am.
The Series ContinuesLike Belshazzar: The Self-Destruction of Diane Watson