Presidential candidate John Kerry, who renounced his Vietnam war medals in the early 1970s.
General George S. Patton Jr., as played by actor George C. Scott, who renounced his metal Oscar in the early 1970s.
Categories
HOT Literary Accessory: Axes
“Hot Trouble,” Abigail Vona from Rolling Stone… Hatchet-Man Dale Peck
Categories
Gloria Emerson, 1929-2004
Gloria Emerson
Speaking of the fall of Saigon…
If female journalists were as lionized as their male counterparts, Gloria Emerson would’ve already gotten the full All The President’s Men treatment by now. I see a young Ali MacGraw or Diane Keaton circa Looking For Mr. Goodbar, or, if it were made today, Parker Posey as the compassionate, fearless Vietnam war reporter for The New York Times who died this week.
Of course, we’ll probably never see such a movie, since female journalists only get the biopic treatment if they’re martyred or the “based on a true story” treatment if they’re beautiful and tragic. Meanwhile, this asshole has a film about him, and this schmuck is about to, despite the fact that neither of them has half the talent, bravery, or impact as Emerson had.
Unlike those pishers, Emerson actually reported her stories, even going so far as to risk her life in war-zones like Vietnam and Gaza. But while Emerson’s male colleagues seem to have had a jones for the danger, the rugged manhood and camaraderie in the theater of war, Emerson brought uncommon compassion to her reporting. As Craig R. Whitney’s Times obit pointed out:
War as she wrote about it was not ennobling but debasing, a misery that inflicted physical suffering and psychic damage on civilians, children and soldiers on both sides.
Emerson wasn’t merely the war’s reporter, she was its conscience. She probably wouldn’t say that about herself, but she almost did when she said:
Vietnam is just a confirmation of everything we feared might happen in life. And it has happened. You know, a lot of people in Vietnam—and I might be one of them—could be mourners as a profession. Morticians and mourners.
She was such an important figure of that era, Richard Avedon gave her the full icon treatment with one of his myth-making portraits, which caught her mid-word, mid-thought, and mid-smoke, looking very much the model of forthright intelligence and intense focus.
As it turns out, there sort of is a movie about Gloria Emerson, or, at the very least, a movie that features her in her prime. In the 1988 documentary Imagine: John Lennon, Emerson pops up in a hilariously confrontational interview with the ex-Beatle who was then embarking on his anti-war “give peace a chance”/bed-in phase. Emerson chastises Lennon for his attention-grabbing antics and his Rolls Royce, repeatedly calling him “my dear boy,” and cutting him off again and again. Lennon, knowing he’s up against his rhetorical better, can only roll his chewing gum in his hand, make jokes about “the moptops” and act like a petulant child.
The only other person who got up in John and Yoko’s shit more in that film was cartoonist Al Capp, but he came off like a crotchety oldster, Bob Dylan’s out-of-touch Mr. Jones, whereas Emerson came off like someone who told it like she saw it, and knew exactly whereof she spoke. She stole the scene in John Lennon’s very own film. I guess she got her movie after all.
Gloria Emerson was 75.
The chairman
Guys, you know when your girlfriend asks you if you she ‘looks fat in this’ and you have to be like, “No way! You look fantastic!” But sometimes she does kinda look fat in that and maybe a guy on the street will say something like “thick” as she passes and you have to be like, “That guy is insane! You do not look fat at all!” But you’re sort of relieved that someone else got to say it and not you? (Gals, this is probably like when your boyfriend asks about his endowment and you have to spin like Ari Fleischer at Equinox.)
Anyway, that’s what it must be like to review a film critical of your boss for the newspaper your boss owns and operates.
Poor Meghan Lehman drew the short straw and had to review Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch’s War on Journalism for The New York Post, while her colleague Lou Lumenick got to see Code 46. (Mysteriously, Outfoxed‘s website is down! Coincidence?… Probably.)
With a headline like FAIR AND BALANCED, THIS DOC’S NOT, you can kind of guess what the critic is going to say without even reading the review. Lehman’s conclusion? “Unbalanced.” But my favorite part is this little rah-rah nut graph towards the end:
Fox News Channel consistently beats CNN and MSNBC, yet Greenwald approaches not a single viewer to probe the reasons for its popularity, nor a single current employee.
Yay! (I’ll leave it to this guy to confirm or refute that claim.)
Related, in today’s Post: BIZ LEADERS HAILED AS HARLEM HEROES “Post Publisher Lachlan Murdoch received an Excellence in Journalism Award…” As his father would say, “Excellent.”
Thursday. Some say it’s the new Friday, and Friday is the new Saturday, and so on and so forth, but I say Thursday is still yesterday.
Yesterday, my friends, was quite a day. From the FEMALE PERSPECTIVE, of course. You want the grit and gristle of womanhood? Here it comes:
What would give you insight? Um, how about a trip to that affordable mecca of disposable fashion, H&M? Yes! That’s right: females like to shop. And when you’re this particular female, you shop on a budget. The Swedish superstore is the solution! Retail therapy is a cheaper version of Klonopin, after all.
Unfortunately, H&M was doused in pink. Yep — pink shirts, pink pants, pink fucking socks from floor to ceiling. Suffice to say, Peptowhatever is in.
Not that I have a problem with pink.
I just don’t like looking like a precious, vomitous mess. At least not on Thursday. Instead, I bought a brown shirt. And I bought it to look “hot” for you “men” so I don’t have to “buy” my “own drinks.”
Until the pay scale is completely equal, this is how it will be. At least it’s all out on the table.
Categories
This is not my beautiful wife
So, in some strange twist of fate, my internet “presence” has landed over here at the lovely low culture where, I suppose, I am expected to lend a female voice. Meanwhile, JP will be launching diatribes of undetermined nature over at my old and neglected site, The Blueprint.
Female voice. Interesting. Inevitably, such a directive will lead to talk of menstruation — and I’m not sure I’m ready to confess to you all that I’m two weeks late.
That being said, I’ll be here and there today but more present tomorrow, at which point I’ll have a better understanding of what it means to be a woman, thanks to some handy lessons from Matt and JP.
Categories
Don’t Abandon the Mission
Curious Kerry photo op in Grandview, Iowa, via Reuters and AFP
Oh, no! Kerry’s having a Fall of Saigon flashback!
Categories
Dick Cheney, I See You!
Boo!
Related (?): Is Cheney standing in a grassy knoll?