All I can say is, it’s about time. For decades, we’ve been turning the other cheek as you hateful, hurtful right-wingers have inflicted injury after injury upon us, like beating us in elections every once in a while. Here all we want to do is effect a fundamental transformation of your entire country — its morals, its politics, its economic system, its place in the world — and you refuse to play along. And this with the splendid examples of my beloved Soviet Union and Communist China staring you in the face. How many people do we men of the Left have to kill before you take us seriously?
And we thought we had you. Using the media that really matters for America — our lapdog media, whose stories are written and broadcast by our friends from the old neighborhood, the same people we still live among on the Upper West Side, in Brentwood, on the Cape, and on the Island — we had kept Amerikkka blinkered and blindfolded, distracting the rubes from our slow-moving demolition derby with trash-culture stories whenever it seemed your side might finally be waking up. Thank Gaia for Liz and Dick, for Tiny Tim, for Elton John, for Paris Hilton and Charlie Sheen and all the others who have changed the subject in times of great national peril.
But then along came Fox News and Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh and the Koch brothers and Roger Ailes and Rupert Murdoch and Fox News, and all of a sudden, in our minds at least, the field was level again. It didn’t matter that we still had CBSNBCABCCNNMSNBC in our corner; that’s what we keep parrots for. But Fox News had the temerity to want to fly, free as a bird (I dunno, an eagle, a hawk, a buzzard, but not a parakeet), and we simply can’t have that. Like Maya Angelou, we know why the caged bird sings, and it’s to sing for his supper.
Oddly enough, I’ve taken my share of grief from the tovariches over at Media Matters, who, unlike you humorless dopes, take what I write quite seriously; with their trenchant prose and jeu d’esprit they really know how to hurt a guy when they decide to dudgeon him to death.
So, as His Serene Majesty Barack Hussein Obama II, Lord of the Flies, Keeper of the Hoops, Master of the Greens, Bringer of Kinetic Military Action, and Protector of the Holy Cities of Honolulu and Chicago, likes to say, let me be clear:
Hey, Media Matters for America. I’m here, on the inside, in the belly of the Buckleyan beast, monitoring the media that matters for America. Don’t blow my cover, dudes! I’m down with the struggle! I’m the spy who stayed out in the cold!
But I still have to eat. And that’s why I’ve been inspired at just this moment to come up with a new screenplay pitch, which I’m calling my agent about later today:
Clash of the Titans II — Soros vs. Murdoch: This Time, It’s Bloody Personal.
I’d pay to see that, wouldn’t you? Hell, I’d even pay to see it on Fox News, but only if Jamie Colby plays the girl. I’ve still got my principles.
— David Kahane misses the Berlin Wall, because it was so much easier being a double agent in the good old days. You can write to him in invisible ink at [email protected] or pretend to have read his book, Rules for Radical Conservatives, and become his Commie-cell friend on Facebook. Don’t worry, he won’t blow your cover.