Media Criticism

Good News, Bad News

The good news is that the Pope’s passing has knocked Terri Schiavo out of the news, when otherwise we could have continued to marinate in its aftermath for days. The bad news is that it also knocked everything else out, including Sandy Burglar. I had already predicted that no one would be talking about this tomorrow morning, because there’s no way to talk about it that reflects well on the media’s favorite (recent) administration–that of Bill Clinton. Now, it’s guaranteed–it will be all pontiff, all the time, maybe for a couple weeks until a successor is chosen.

I’m sure that many in the Washington press corps are breathing a sigh of relief to have an excuse to ignore the story. We can’t let them do it indefinitely–there are too many unanswered questions about which they’ve displayed too little curiousity.

General

“A Well-Lived Life”

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

General

“A Well-Lived Life”

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

General

“A Well-Lived Life”

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

Media Criticism

Mysteriouser And Mysteriouser

What is the credulity level of a reporter who can write a story like this with no allusion to how little sense it makes?

First, the lead:

The Justice Department said yesterday there was no evidence that former national security adviser Samuel R. “Sandy” Berger was trying to conceal information when he illegally took copies of classified terrorism documents out of the National Archives in 2003…

…Department lawyers concluded that Berger took the documents for personal convenience — to prepare testimony — and not with the intent of destroying evidence or thwarting the Sept. 11 panel’s inquiry as to whether the Clinton administration did enough to confront a rising terrorist threat.

Then, she writes:

In acknowledging the crime to Magistrate Judge Deborah A. Robinson, Berger said he knowingly took five copies of different versions of the same classified document — briefings for the Clinton administration on terrorism threats — from the National Archives in the fall of 2003. As part of his plea, Berger also acknowledged that he destroyed three of the copies, and returned the remaining two to archives officials and said he had “misfiled” them.

How does destroying documents help one “prepare testimony”? The story makes it sound like they were accidentally destroyed, but she can’t be bothered to mention that he deliberately shredded them with scissors. There is still no explanation for this, from either her, or at least as she reports, from the Justice Department people.

And what are we to make of this?

Hillman noted that Berger only had copies of the documents — not the originals — and so was not charged with the more serious crime of destroying documents.

But if they were only “copies” (indicating that the information on them was identical) why did he need five of them? And what was the purpose of destroying three of them? Is Hillman an idiot? Why did he get such a light sentence when there are so many seemingly unanswered questions?

And I loved this bit:

Friends of Berger said he hopes the embarrassing episode does not badly tarnish his reputation.

As long as Berger, like all corrupt former Clinton officials, has friends in the press, his reputation will apparently be just fine. And does anyone think that this reporting would have been the same if it were a Bush administration official accused of the same thing? No, I suspect there’s be much more curiousity on the part of this reporter, and others.

[Update on Monday morning]

For those visitors this morning from Instapundit, note that this is a follow up of an earlier post on this subject.

Despite the wall-to-wall coverage of the passing of the pontiff, we can’t let this story fall off the radar, no matter how badly the press wishes that it would go away.

General

Requiescat In Pace

Apparently, Pope John Paul II is dead.

Not being Catholic, or even a theist, I’m not big on popes, and I disagreed with him on many issues, but like Ronald Reagan, who died almost a year ago, he was one of the great men of the latter half of the twentieth century. He, like Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, and to an only slightly lesser degree, people such as Lech Walensa and Vaclav Havel, was not willing to merely “contain” a brutal totalitarian empire, but was determined to stand up to it and end it. Along with them, he succeeded, and for that act alone he will go down in history as one of the greatest men to wear the shoes of the fisherman.

It will be difficult for the church to find his like as a replacement.

Biting Commentary about Infinity…and Beyond!