CSotD: The Gavins, the ABR’s, the Blowhards
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Today could just be one giant Juxtaposition, but let's start with the Buckets as an introduction to the theme.
The short answer is, "No, there isn't," or, rather, "Yes, you can post that sign. But it won't do a damn bit of good."
The long answer begins the same way, but then adds "… and here's why."
First you start with the Thanksgiving Dinner metaphor, and the Ancient, Beloved Relative who spouts off ridiculous nonsense, only nobody wants to speak up and correct the Ancient, Beloved Relative because (A) it would ruin Thanksgiving and (B) it wouldn't do a damn bit of good anyway.
Greg Cravens frames the issue properly: It's a lack of fact-checking, not one of deliberate lying. There are only a handful of deliberate liars on the Web, if you leave off the commercial scammers.
As Jeff Danziger noted years ago, the vast majority even of those who post outrageously provocative, idiotic drivel, are simply the same blowhards we've always known and reluctantly tolerated.
That Ancient, Beloved Relative (ABR) is sometimes a hater, but often not. The important element is being clueless, and you can't make someone clueful.
Like little Gavin, the ABR prattles on, unaware not only of the nonsense flowing out of their mouth, but of their impact on their listeners.
Part of the hilarity in that clip is how Gavin simply slides from one ridiculous topic to the next, and, on Facebook or wherever, the little Gavins cheerfully, heedlessly, mindlessly post absolute nonsense about sharing things to win riches or to get some pathetic dying fictional child a medical treatment, or the story of how one of Our Brave Troops didn't get sprinkles because a nationwide chain of ice cream shops hates America.
You can point out that it's bullshit and you'll have just as much impact as the weary butcher above, because the ABR/Gavin is not reading the comments, or, at best, will respond with a tee-hee and perhaps, "Well, maybe you're right, but, still, it's the idea."
Which you can only say if you've never had an actual idea.
Rick Stromoski unintentionally enters this discussion, in that today's Soup to Nutz doesn't address misinformation on the Internet, but his analysis is just as true of Internet numbskulls as it is of six-year-old kids, and the joke is that you'd never find either self-aware enough to say it.
And, as tempting as it is to bring in the "You can't handle the truth!" quote, the point of that movie is where the line is drawn between being part of the solution and part of the problem.
At least it didn't spawn a dozen sequels: We made Dirty Harry Calahan and the psychopathic architect in those Charles Bronson films into folk heroes and box-office cha-ching because they abandoned civilized behavior in favor of visceral lynch-mob justice.
Not only are they models for the "fearless tellers of truth" on the Internet, but now we've got a screwball leading the GOP nomination process because "he says what people are thinking."
But what most people are too decent, thoughtful and intelligent to say aloud.
Arguing with that set of unhinged blowhards who are not simply innocent fools but toxic hatemongers is pointless, because expressing opposition simply confirms the massive conspiracy against their truth.
And, like Stromoski's innocent doofus, they are afraid both of indifference and of rejection, only, unlike him, they respond with venom.
So not only was your effort wasted, but the exchange was deeply upsetting to you and quite satisfying to them.
Which brings us to …
Politics makes strange bedfellows
And no stranger pairing could there be than the cartoonists in this Juxtaposition of the Day, a cerebral progressive and a hardcharging rightwinger, both of whom get it right.
There were a number of "empty lectern" cartoons about Trump skipping last night's debate, but McCoy nails the issue, both commenting on the build-up and correctly predicting the outcome.
Because of the hours I keep (and my reluctance to watch sausage being made), I didn't see last night's debate, figuring I'd catch the coverage in the morning.
As of 4 a.m., the widget on my desktop was headlining Trump's alternative extravaganza, not the debate.
Now, granted, that doesn't mean the media didn't cover both, but the widget tracks reader interest and, well, isn't that just peachy?
For all the ideological differences between them, Wuerker and McCoy agree on the incredible success Trump is enjoying in playing the media.
Donald Trump is the Abbie Hoffman of our age, a clown who is better at getting attention than at analyzing much of anything, and, just as Hoffman infuriated more dedicated left-wing activists, Trump is starting to genuinely dismay those on the far right who initially welcomed the attention he brought to their point of view.
Or, if you prefer, he is comparable to Jane Fonda, since, like her, he had an existing media presence that provided a platform from which to spout vapid, irresponsible foolishness that not only does not reflect the politics of those whose followers he courts, but is deeply embarrassing and divisive, doing far more harm than good.
So what's new?
Even before the Internet, if assignment directors had a choice between covering John Froines or David Dellinger delivering a thoughtful, insightful talk on the gap between the Geneva Accords and our actions in Southeast Asia, or Abbie running around with a pig and Jane sitting in the seat of a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun …
At least nobody was thinking of entrusting those two nitwits with the launch codes.
I am dismayed, when I behold
A jackass on the tube.
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
So be it when I shall grow old,
Unless the damn fools blow it all up first.
To close on a more positive note:
On holidays, I used to close out my radio show with this song.
Seems like a good way to close out today's otherwise
downbeat reflections.
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