STEPHEN COLBERT'S OPERATION SHOCK AND AWE

LINK OF THE DAY/POLITICAL ACT OF THE DECADE

http://www.salon.com/ent/video_dog/politics/2006/04/30/colbert_press/

Stephen Colbert at the Washington Correspondents Dinner. Absolutely rivetting. Not just for the balls of steel material. But for the stony, uncomfortable response. Quite possibly the bravest political act of the decade. Comparable, in its bold defiance of authority and it's fearless affirmation of democratic values, to the guy standing in front of the tank at Tiannamen Square. And before you laugh off the comparison, remember this: There were 100 armed Secret Service men in that room to protect the president and Colbert was killing him right before their eyes. (Bush was trying to give the secret repetitive blink signal for them to shoot, but he couldn't remember how many times he was supposed to blink.) This was not a roast. This was a smart bomb. This eviscerating instance of speaking truth to power was the real operation Shock and Awe.

(P.S. Who would have thought that the only truly must-see TV this year would be on C-Span? If for any reason, you are not able to access the video at the link above because you are not a subscriber to Salon.com, write me at TCohn725@aol.com and I--since I am a subscriber-- will forward you the video from within the site. I cannot emphasize enough how much you need to see it. Not surprisingly, the mainstream media whose complicity and cowardice he viciously indicts has been very reluctant to report on this brave and brilliant performance. It is the one time anyone has dared to say the things that need to be said to the people who most need to hear them. Hence watching (and sharing!) this video is more than spellbindingly entertaining. It is an important political act.)

DEFINITION OF THE DAY:

Milkshake: The taste of imminent fatigue.

ALTERNATE DEFINITION OF THE DAY:

Milkshake: The antidote to thought.
/>FUDDYDUD OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: (To be expanded on perhaps at some later juncture).

I recently saw a tween aged girl sitting across from her mother on the subway. She had "1969" written on her jeans. I was very curious about the significance of the date and asked her "Wow, 1969. I'd think that would be a date that means more to your mother than to you. Why did you choose to put it on your jeans? Was it becuase of Woodstock? Or Man Landing on the Moon? Or did it have some personal meaning for your family?" She shrugged. "No. The jeans just came like that." Alas, the meaning of "1969" was that it didn't mean anything. I was reminded of this, when a friend mentioned a similar experience she'd had with a young girl who had some political slogan on her coat but had neither knowledge nor curiosity about what it referred to. It appears that for this generation, the political and historical have been entirely subsumed by fashion. Kids are just billboards now, plastered with signifiers which signify nothing beyond themselves. Che Guevara? The Peace Symbol? The Swastika? Design elements. Nothing less. And nothing more. The end of history and meaning in a stylish, lowriding denim form.

SORT OF A PROPOS EXCERPT OF THE DAY: (Or, as they might say in academe, apposite.)

"It's that frustrating last 10 pounds of history that folks can't seem to shed, no matter how much they modernize their diets." -From Walter Kirn's review of Gary Shteyngart's new book "Absurdistan" in last Sunday's NYT Book Review.

SENTENCE OF THE DAY:

I plan to cultivate a studied inarticulateness.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"Scott McLellan. He could say nothing like no one else." -Stephen Colbert

AMBIGUOUS PHRASE OF HE DAY:

Not that many people like him.

(Is it short for the glowing "There are not that many people like him?"

COMMERCIAL COMMENT OF THE DAY:

Did you see that new AT&T ad about the ever more convincing approximation of automated computer voices to human voices…converging towards the omega point of indistnguishability? It’s supposed to be a reassuring message about corporate service and technologoical progress. But it’s really a bit creepy—reminding us of the undetectable and inexorable intrusion of the inhuman into the human.

NEW PRODUCT OF THE DAY:

Personality diaper. For the emotionally incontinent.

SPORTS AND RACE COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:

Saturday a little after noon. In my coffee shop. Watching the NFL draft unfold on the muted plasma television. People rivetted by the spectacle of supersized (mostly African-American) men walking up to the stage at 15 minute intervals to be christened as multi-millionaires. One of the great public rituals of wealth transference in our culture. (With strange overtones of an inverted slave auction that functions perversely as an indirect, unofficial reparation for slavery.) At an athletic level, this sports event makes a golf tournament look like a triathlon. It's about getting millions of seated people to watch a handful of other seated people waiting for their chance to take a very short walk. Of course, it's about more than that. It's a chance for millions of vicarious armchair athletes like myself to gage their likely ratio of frustration to exaltation in the coming football seasons. A chance to see the new faces they will waste innumerable hours rooting for, cursing at and obsessing about. Something about the absence of sound underscores the absurd reality of all sports-fandom. Anyhow, I watch the silent proceedings to see how my beloved Jets will exercise their chance to break their fans hearts. With Matt Leinart still available (we have been cutting back to him repeatedly as others have been picked ahead of him and his stock has continued to fall), there is the temptation to go with the mediagenic possible star QB instead of the offensive lineman (Fergusson) you need to protect the quarterback. It's an actual crisis. A moment of truth for the organization. Do you give up on Pennington and Ramsey and commit to Leinart as your franchise QB or do you commit to the Pennington/Ramsey tandem and pick someone to protect them? As one of the few Jets fans I know who had refused to give up on Chad Pennington and as someone who has long felt that a football team only goes as far as its offensive line takes them, I am pleasantly surprised to see them pass up the temptation of Leinart (an excellent player...but in my mind no better than a healthy Chad...ay healthy...there's the rub) and pick Ferguson. They cut to Leinart, dropping his head as he feels his stock go into free fall like Juniper Networks in January 2001 and then we see Ferguson lumber up to the stage to be annointed among the wealthy. Chad must be doing some kind of crazy white man dance somewhere. I tear myself from the rivetting spectacle and set out for other time wasting activities.

Tags:   None

© All rights reserved.

Posted on 5/1/2006 ( Permanent Link )
Read 605 Times
 Send to Friend