So everybody's been jumping on Keith Olbermann's dick lately for his bevy of anti-Bush diatribes, but I have to say I'm not that impressed. To me he just comes across as petulant, overly grave, and preachy. (Also, his use of the "hole the ground" as a symbol for Bush's wasted opportunity doesn't really translate, since the clusterfuck surrounding the re-development of Ground Zero and the memorial is classic New York politics and doesn't really have anything to do with Bush.)
It's not that Bush doesn't deserve to be verbally waterboarded at every opportunity; I just happen to think Olbermann is better at celebrating home runs than summoning the disembodied ghost of Edward R. Murrow. (Try to imagine Craig Kilborn delivering the same solemn condemnations.) (Did you like how I managed to use two words with the "mn" dipthong in a row? That's why I'm a rich literary celebrity and you're not.)
Which is not to say Olbemann has no right to get political because he used to be a sportscaster. But I can't help but feel like he's being appointed spokesman for the "silent majority," which bothers me because a) we're not all that silent, and b) nobody asked for my vote. I guess it's just that every other talking head out there is so pathetically horrible that Olbermann looks positively Cronkitian by comparison. I would say, however, that Stewart/Colbert, et al manage to be much more insightful and scathing, even though they've got a laugh track.
You know what? I just made the best argument against this post. Some little funny bit mocking Olbermann's weighty gravitas would've been more effective and entertaining. So here it is:
Phrases I Would Like to Hear Keith Olbermann Say with His Grave, Lecturing Delivery
- "Shame on you, Kevin Federline. Popo Zao? More like Popo Shame."
- "How dare you, Mr. McFeely? You come to our doorsteps, clad in that blue mockery of a uniform, with your disturbing adult bowl-cut, yammering about 'Speedy Delivery' as if that would decrease by one iota the misery that is life."
- "I am reminded of the wisdom of that great treasure trove of Americana, Perfect Strangers, specifically the time when Balki loses his hat. He was so sad. For shame."
- "The firemen came and broke through the chimney top—my mother and I were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird, and instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He'd been climbing down the chimney on Christmas Eve, his arms loaded with presents. He slipped and broke his neck; he died instantly. That's how I found out there was no Santa Claus."
- "Hey dol, merry dol. Ring a dong dillo. Ring a dong, hop along. Fal lal the willow. Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo. These are words Mr. Bush would be wise to reflect on."
- "Remember then, for a moment, these words from our national memory, which ring as true today as they did when first uttered: Dad is great; he gives us... chocolate cake. Good night and good luck."