DEATH OF A GRINNER
Q. What’s the best word to describe Tim Russert?
A. Grinner. Like the Cheshire cat, Tim Russert was of grin and nothing else compact. The rest will fade, his grin is the only thing of him that will linger in our memories. Ol’ Grinnin’ Timmy. Timmy the Grinner. Rich man’s Dennis Quaid.
Q. Was Russert our best journalist?
A. Russert wasn’t a journalist but a politician employed in media. In function he was a publicist, a secretary, a ward heel, a conveyor belt, a host. He delivered Power to peons.
Q. What do you mean he wasn’t a journalist? Did he not ask questions and record answers?
A. The traditional view is that politicians are scum, and the job of the journalist is to extend the eye and ear of the weary worker by shining a brief light on a square foot of the continent of malfeasance his taxes subsidize. Today’s journalists don’t look down on politicians, they look up to them, or they look across the table at them. We’ve gone from Mencken’s There is only one way to look at a politician – down, to jew Berezovsky’s Media is [sic] politics. In Russert’s Irish Catholic grin we see all the corruption of Tammany Hall. We see in him the big grinning friend, the ward heel, the cog in the party machine, the loyal partisan. Do we see a journalist? No. Another saying: Journalism is what people don’t want known. The rest is publicity. Russert and the people he interviewed belong to the same class. They’re a club. They don’t want to get kicked out of the club. It’s a cozy and cosseted membership of multi-millionaires.
Journalists used to be called reporters or writers. Their profession was looked down on, as something necessary but undignified, like sewering. It wasn’t even called a profession back then but a craft. Its members were drunks, reprobates or adventurers, taking one with another. At some point that changed, and after Watergate it really speeded up. Journalism became a ticket to fame and riches. It became respectable and middle class. Instead of a craft that could be learned in a few weeks, journalism became something requiring years of specialized schooling, advanced degrees. The practical effect of this professionalization was a homogenization. All journalists think alike. Is that an exaggeration? No. More like an understatment. If you’ve read one news story, you’ve read them all. There are a handful of templates. All breaking news can be grouped into one of a handful of categories. A female or fry cook can do the rest. No swashbucklers need apply.
At the same time journalists were drying out and becoming respectable and professional, the industry was consolidating and streamlining. Where a big city might have had four dailies featuring forty writers with four hundred ideas in 1900, its 2008 counterpart featured one paper, staffed by twenty humorless corporate-leftists with zero ideas, following a party line. Chances were the daily belonged to a chain, and the chain was owned by a jew. A jew dedicated to Israel and the anti-White communism known as civil rights. No one outside that matrix need apply for a job, which was redundant, because no one outside the matrix would have made it into, let alone through, the j-school pipeline.
The concentration of the media combined with the funneling of professional development through schools of journalism made mass media bland, dumb and wrong. All mass media had settled answers for questions big and small, and all these answers were wrong. Yet no one doubting these answers could be employed by a mainstream outlet. If it weren’t for the rise of the Internet, no one would know that other answers existed. Just cows and chickens as far as the eye could see.
In this safe, settled, saccharine, Semitically Correct milieu, Tim Russert lived and moved and had his pre-infarction being. He was utterly comfortable with it. He was a postal clerk’s son made good. Not to like, whatz?
So when Power came to him, in the wake of 9/11, with tales of weapons of mass destruction, it never occurred to Grinnin’ Winnin’ Tim to doubt.
Q. If Russert was not a real journalist, give an example of what a real journalist would have said or written that he did not.
A. Ok. First, let the record show that Timmy the Grinner expressed regret he was not aware of the case against the Bush administration lies about WMD. Now, Timmy was obited up as this great preparer. This guy who would come in early on Sundays and polish his questions for Meet the Press. But he’s unaware of the thousands of bloggers – those amateurs to whom the tasks of real journalism have fallen – factually documenting the lies and motives of Bush and the jews behind him. He’s never heard of a guy like Scott Ritter. A real journalist would have creamed the best of the blogosphere and used his elevated platform to grill Cheney. Would have asked something like, “Mr. Cheney, is there anyone in the Bush administration willing to put the interests of America ahead of Israel?” He might have asked, “We see in the Clean Break report the hope there will be a new Pearl Harbor to get the American public enthused about a war to reorder the Middle East. In light of the fact that a Mossad team was caught taping the attack on the twin towers, does the American public have any reason to believe the jews coin-operating Bush didn’t go ahead and produce the event themselves, as they have done in so many false flags over the course of the 20th century?” These are real questions. The thought of a secretary like Russert asking them is unimaginable. Instead, what Russert and his russet-headed peers did was use their positions to serve as black velvet fobs for the Semites’ sparkling lies.
Q. You don’t seem to see Russert as much of a person, rather as a function in a formula.
A. Correct. If not Russert then someone else. It was Russert and his ilk who, being bereft of principles beyond holding power, see politics as a battle of personalities. That makes sense if, as I’ve said, you’re more prone to accepting than thinking in the first place; you don’t know anybody around you who thinks; the big questions all have settled answers that seem just fine to you. If no one is allowed to point out that the System is based on farming and eating White people, White men in particular; if no one is allowed to point out that organized jews control our government and are using our blood and treasure to advance Israel’s interests against our own – then what is left? Just a battle between little dogs for scraps. Politics becomes just another mass spectator sport in which we cheer and boo for the red or blue team, even though they’re both purple.
Most of the American public thinks the nation is headed the wrong way – and that is without their having the benefits of real journalists feeding them the actual facts of the matter. The nation is going the wrong way a much faster clip than the public realizes, as the true facts of our situation are kept from us. The reader must become the journalist, today, if he wishes truly to be informed. The information is there, so long as the jews don’t control the Internet. But he must dig it up himself. System hacks like Russert provide the viewer the illusion of being informed. Which is very different from the real thing. It is good for somebody to turn a White nation into a multiracial global empire. Imagine a Russert asking of a top pol: “I notice that open borders is top on the agenda of organized jews, second only to perpetual wars for Israel. Yet the American public is overwhelmingly against the idea. How come, if we have a democracy, the jewish agenda is always carried out, while the American agenda is always ignored – or throttled by the courts?” Unthinkable, I say. If you push yourself to understand precisely why it is unthinkable that Tim Russert would conceive, let alone ask, such a question, you will come to understand the Systemic nature of things. You will see that, for all the focus on what a great guy or gal Tim or she is, it doesn’t matter. The questions are settled. Anyone with different answers need not apply for office or airspace. The farce continua… Stay low and don’t get beat!
Q. So, I take it you’d be willing to stand in line to piss on Russert’s grave?
A. You’re an idiot. You have understood nothing of what I’ve said. My entire point is that Russert, nice, ice or ridden with lice, is irrelevant. The battle of personalities distracts from the principles involved. If it’s not the IRC sycophant and party cog Timmy writing polyester crap about Big Russ, it’ll be Dakota doofus Brokaw plinking crapples about the Greatest most jew-subservient Generation. If you don’t have someone willing to buck the system, you don’t have a journalist. If you have someone concerned about how others see him, you don’t have a journalist, you have a woman. A woman who will make over her stories as carefully as she halters her bosoms and pancakes her cheeks. Everything must be in place. The right impression must be conveyed. That ain’t journalism, friend. Journalists are born, not made. They come from the congenitally disaffected. The miffsits, doubters, haters, the disgusteds, the studious, the reflective, the scoffers, the horselaughers, the side-eyed smirking few. The elect! Not the goody-goodies with Masters in Brownholing and Sob-Sister Socialism. Not from working class Irish suckers of up, grinning big cuz the invite came in.
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