This morning I was pleased to receive a number of messages from Scott, recently located to somewhere in Canada ( I can't say where, lest I blow his cover), one of which had a pasted story from Pundit.com. Misery and human loss aside, the so-called war in Afghanistan has revealed the mainstream media to be a wretched horde of obsequious hacks, concerned more with creating a warm feeling in their readers bellies than accurately and objectively reporting the facts of this war. Rather than being outraged by John Ashcroft's decision to limit media access to information, they seem to be content to just make everything up now.

Here is a little clip from Scott (somewhere in Canada)

More disconcerting than the wacky exploits of Fox News (which is, after all,
regarded as a bit of a pariah in the journalistic community) is that even
supposedly responsible media outlets appear to have lost touch with reality.
The other day, a journalist friend gave me a list of items that he took from
the headlines of the New York Times. Here, with only mild paraphrasing, are
some of the proclamations that the Times has made since September 11:
* The age of irony is over.
* Red, white, and blue is the new black.
* More Americans are eating comfort foods.
* Post 9/11, no more disaster movies.
* Kids are anxious about Santa Claus.
* New Yorkers are drinking straight martinis, not apple ones.
* More people are considering moving to their summer houses year-round.
* Office parties are canceled. It is no time to celebrate.
* Office parties are expanded. It's time to get together.
* The age of irony is not over.

I have read many of those headlines, as I get the Sunday New York Times, and I have to agree that the quality of the times is slipping. Do I really care about the latest style of pajama-like pants for women to depressed, scared or broke to leave their appartments?

More on Scott.
In the winter of 1997, I took a job that was thrown into my lap as a ski/snowboard instructor for snot-nosed Eurobrats and diplobrats in Switzerland. I met Scott in the staff pub on the first night of my arrival. The manager of the camp was a pale englishman, who upon meeting me, uttered "Just what we need, more Americans." He brushed me off and went back to smoking his Marlboros and continuing the story about how he saw Blur in Geneva. Scott told me not to worry about the manager; "It's not that he's english, he's just a prick." Scott helped me adjust to the local customs so that I would not stick out so much, giving me pointers on how to avoid getting fleeced by unethical bartenders (geen and toneeek? 14 francs please), and what beer to avoid at all costs. This unholy brew could give you a 16 hour hangover from 2 pints. Most of the time we drank a beer called William Tell. Imagine that.


The pay was so low I won't even mention it, but the experience was worth the free ride they gave me, allowing me to ski France and Switzerland for at no real cost to myself. I was also able to influence many young children, preventing some of them from becoming accountants, lawyers, and policy analysts.