Homage to Martin Niemoller
First he threw Jorge Ramos out of a press conference, and I did not speak out because who cares about Spanish-language television?
Then he mocked Serge Kovaleski, and I did not speak out because, well, it was kind of amusing. Yeah, I'm not proud but I laughed. A little.
Then he had his goon manhandle Megyn Kelly, and I did not speak out because I don't like Fox News.
Then he stirred up the mob against Katy Tur, and I did not speak out because these network reporters aren't real journalists.
Then he barred the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, CNN, the Guardian and Politico from the White House, and I figured, more questions from the rest of us.
Then he proclaimed me an enemy of the people, and there was no one left to speak out.
Get the picture, heroes of the First Amendment? Protest is pointless. You must boycott these press "briefings" until they are open to every credentialed reporter and not just the crackpot fringe. Because to these people Newsweek is the crackpot fringe. But they still need to get their propaganda out, which means they need you. And dog help us, so do we.
Then he mocked Serge Kovaleski, and I did not speak out because, well, it was kind of amusing. Yeah, I'm not proud but I laughed. A little.
Then he had his goon manhandle Megyn Kelly, and I did not speak out because I don't like Fox News.
Then he stirred up the mob against Katy Tur, and I did not speak out because these network reporters aren't real journalists.
Then he barred the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, CNN, the Guardian and Politico from the White House, and I figured, more questions from the rest of us.
Then he proclaimed me an enemy of the people, and there was no one left to speak out.
Get the picture, heroes of the First Amendment? Protest is pointless. You must boycott these press "briefings" until they are open to every credentialed reporter and not just the crackpot fringe. Because to these people Newsweek is the crackpot fringe. But they still need to get their propaganda out, which means they need you. And dog help us, so do we.
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 10:53 AM
1 Comments:
From Edward Abbott, "Flatland":
"Look yonder," said my Guide, "in Flatland thou hast lived; of Lineland thou hast received a vision; thou hast soared with me to the heights of Spaceland; now, in order to complete the range of thy experience, I conduct thee downward to the lowest depth of existence, even to the realm of Pointland, the Abyss of No Dimensions.
"Behold yon miserable creature. That Point is a Being like ourselves, but confined to the non-dimensional Gulf. He is himself his own World, his own Universe; of any other than himself he can form no conception; he knows not Length, nor Breadth, nor Height, for he has had no experience of them; he has no cognizance even of the number Two; nor has he a thought of Plurality; for he is himself his One and All, being really Nothing. Yet mark his perfect self-contentment, and hence learn this lesson, that to be self-contented is to be vile and ignorant, and that to aspire is better than to be blindly and impotently happy. Now listen."
He ceased; and there arose from the little buzzing creature a tiny, low, monotonous, but distinct tinkling, as from one of your Spaceland phonographs, from which I caught these words, "Infinite beatitude of existence! It is; and there is none else beside It."
"What," said I, "does the puny creature mean by 'it'?" "He means himself," said the Sphere: "have you not noticed before now, that babies and babyish people who cannot distinguish themselves from the world, speak of themselves in the Third Person? But hush!" "It fills all Space," continued the little soliloquizing Creature, "and what It fills, It is. What It thinks, that It utters; and what It utters, that It hears; and It itself is Thinker, Utterer, Hearer, Thought, Word, Audition; it is the One, and yet the All in All. Ah, the happiness, ah, the happiness of Being! "
"Can you not startle the little thing out of its complacency?" said I. "Tell it what it really is, as you told me; reveal to it the narrow limitations of Pointland, and lead it up to something higher." "That is no easy task," said my Master; "try you."
Hereon, raising my voice to the uttermost, I addressed the Point as follows:
"Silence, silence, contemptible Creature. You call yourself the All in All, but you are the Nothing: your so-called Universe is a mere speck in a Line, and a Line is a mere shadow as compared with—" "Hush, hush, you have said enough," interrupted the Sphere, "now listen, and mark the effect of your harangue on the King of Pointland."
The lustre of the Monarch, who beamed more brightly than ever upon hearing my words, showed clearly that he retained his complacency; and I had hardly ceased when he took up his strain again. "Ah, the joy, ah, the joy of Thought! What can It not achieve by thinking! Its own Thought coming to Itself, suggestive of Its disparagement, thereby to enhance Its happiness! Sweet rebellion stirred up to result in triumph! Ah, the divine creative power of the All in One! Ah, the joy, the joy of Being!"
"You see," said my Teacher, "how little your words have done. So far as the Monarch understands them at all, he accepts them as his own—for he cannot conceive of any other except himself—and plumes himself upon the variety of 'Its Thought' as an instance of creative Power. Let us leave this God of Pointland to the ignorant fruition of his omnipresence and omniscience: nothing that you or I can do can rescue him from his self-satisfaction."
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