Looking good!
Looking good!
"The news cycle begins at sunrise, as groggy reporters hear the ping of a presidential tweet, and ends sometime in the overnight hours, as newspaper editors tear up planned front pages scrambled by the latest revelation from Washington. In consequence and velocity, the political developments of the past four weeks โ€” has it been only four weeks? โ€” are jogging memories of momentous journalistic times."

This is just one of many thrilling paragraphs from the vainglorious purple prose published by the New York Times yesterday. The article's thesis? Writing about Donald Trump's tweets has "invigorated" journalists, returning them to the romantic days when fedora-wearing, cigar-smoking, whisky-drinking, shoe-leather sleuths banged out the latest muckraking exclusive on their beat-up typewriters.

Are your palms sweaty? Are your nipples slightly hard? That's because the New York Times and its media friends are neck-deep in the most thorough, ground-breaking journalism in decades:
"The breathless pace of events reminds me of O. J. and Monica days," said Jeffrey Toobin, who covered the O. J. Simpson murder trial and the scandal involving Ms. Lewinsky for The New Yorker. "The way both journalists and consumers feel kind of overwhelmed by the pace of developments. This feeling of, 'Well, can't it just stop for a while?'"
And there you have it. Reporting on Donald Trump's tweets reminds journalists of the glory days of the O.J. Simpson trial. Yes, finally, the media is once again energized by the real issues.

And here's David Remnick, who has probably done more to harm U.S.-Russia relations than several dozen neocon freaks combined, talking about the tingly sensation that crawls up his inner thigh each time it is proven that Trump is a KGB agent (which is five times a day, on average):
"There is this sense of urgency and energy that I feel now that reminds me of being 29 and in a very different situation: in the middle of a revolutionary situation in Russia," said David Remnick, the editor of The New Yorker, who was a correspondent for The Washington Post in Moscow during the collapse of the Soviet Union. "I'm not saying it's a revolution now. But there is this uncertainty about what is happening minute to minute, day to day."
C'mon, Dave.

These are the goof-balls who have consistently gone to bat for the government and its awfulness. In one hour you could compile a staggering laundry list of crimes these outlets have committed against their readers โ€” whether it's peddling fake WMD evidence, or withholding a story about massive, illegal surveillance until after Bush was re-elected:
The New York Times first debated publishing a story about secret eavesdropping on Americans as early as last fall, before the 2004 presidential election.

But the newspaper held the story for more than a year and only revealed the secret wiretaps last Friday, when it became apparent a book by one of its reporters was about to break the news, according to journalists familiar with the paper's internal discussions.

[...]

The newspaper had reported Friday that it held publication of the story for "a year" because the White House had argued that it "could jeopardize continuing investigations and alert would-be terrorists that they might be under scrutiny."
So brave!

The Obama Administration waged open war against the press. That didn't "invigorate" anyone at the New York Times? But Trump's tweets did? Is this a very, very sad joke?

The cherry on top of this suck-sundae is that just three days ago the New York Times actually cited a fake tweet as part of its ground-breaking reporting on Michael Flynn:
Correction: February 13, 2017

An earlier version of this article misstated the day on which the White House sent out a series of conflicting signals about Michael T. Flynn, the national security adviser. It was Monday, not Tuesday. Also, because of an editing error, an earlier version quoted three posts from an unverified Twitter account purporting to be Mr. Flynn's, responding to the resignation.
Yeah. An "editing error". That's a nice euphemism for being terrible at your job.