Radio Sweethearts

There comes a point every Sunday night – and when I’m posting, we’ve inevitably just come home from a potluck supper at a friend’s house – when whatever I’m proudly showing Kerry is met with her sudden sigh of recollection and the question, “Do you know what that looks like?”

Which usually throws me off. “No. What does it look like?”

To which, her response is always, “I’m not sure. But I do know what it doesn’t look like. Your recap.”

So here I am, another Sunday night/Monday morning in the trenches.

I don’t know how many World War I metaphors I can really get away with, given that I’m writing a blog about public radio. It’s not like I’m dealing with mustard gas here. Or war at all.

I mean, I know we’re at war in two countries, but all the news and Twitter seem to care about is Michael Jackson. And look at this, the ever astute media critic, Bob Garfield (who is manning this week’s “On the Media” solo), has a little something to say about that (and I’m totally siding with him on this one.

In fact, he mentioned the wars without first backing himself into an awkward extended metaphor:
The President went to Russia to negotiate with Putin. North Korea fired missiles into the Sea of Japan. A Central American president was deposed. Ethnic riots broke out in China. Congress debated revolutionary changes in healthcare and energy policy.

Oh, and we’re at war in two countries.

But, the big story on Action News this week: the death of a pop star.

After hearing this brief tantrum, Kerry said that it sounds like Bob’s inner child had long since suffocated and died.

Which is kind of gruesome. And, Bob, you’ll be glad to know I refused to agree. At least until:

As Henry Luce famously observed: People make news, and dead people make more news. And dead superstars make even more news. And dead superstar man-child freaks possibly drugged into oblivion, well, expense be damned – it’s time to bring in the A Team.

At which point, I agreed. Yes. That inner child is dead.

I hope I never lose the sense of innocence and wonder when I see news organizations with hopelessly misplaced priorities continue to suppress real news in favor of what amounts to celebrity gossip. This is stuff for vintage “Inside Edition” when Bill O’Reilly was host.

The funeral of Michael Jackson should have been a private affair. That so much news media ignored real news in favor of a body in a gold plated box and completely capitalized upon the one truly sincere moment in the entire Godforsaken spectacle – Jackson’s daughter Paris’ brief, stricken statement, is truly atrocious.

I say that not as someone who thinks that news is something sacred, but as someone who thinks that privacy is sacred. There’s no doubt that Michael Jackson was once truly talented. There’s also no doubt that he was truly fucked up.

But what people do not seem to realize is that Jackson was so troubled because he kept trying to recreate an idealized childhood – the guy was never allowed one. By capitalizing on Paris’ sweet sincerity and real pain, the news media – and by extension, its consumers – are complicit in stripping this poor girl of her childhood.

It’s bad enough that she’ll grow up the (likely unremarkable) child of a celebrity/music legend/genuinely creepy dude. But now her tearful admission of daughterly love will be forever hanging over her.

Middle school is going to *suck* for Paris Jackson.

Now, after an introduction longer than most papers I wrote in college, it’s time for the rest of the episode.

Which I will skip over except to say that the Washington Post did totally skeeve me out with their attempt to make a few bucks by getting lobbyists, administration officials, and the reporters who know them all together for a nice dinner.

Ick.

Also, Khrushchev seems to have been a bit of a circus in and of himself. I wish I would have been around for his visit to the U.S. – and that I would have been in his coterie of photographers and reporters.

This week’s longwinded but still woefully incomplete OTM Recap was written by a very tired Matthew, as Kerry slept beside him, but on top of the sheets because it’s just that hot.