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Nope, Not Surreal One Whit

I wake up very early in the morning to the puerile tones of the NPRanoids. You know, the buffoonish professional wind-machines over at National Propaganda Radio. You might ask why I subject myself to this particular form of exquisite torture. And I would answer thus: for one, I like knowing what the propaganda machine is pumping out, drudge (sorry, Matt), bilge, hogwash and all. For two, the twitter and twaddle of the NPR talking heads occasionally makes me laugh uproariously at their feeble-brained interpretation of reality, and I love a good belly-laugh. For three, should I not be amused, the chicaneries of the national propagandists gets my blood flowing with rage, and I get to improve upon my command of the most disgusting cuss words I can think of.

This morning the Lords of Twitful Propaganda were flim-flamming on and on about how surreal it was to have President Clinton's impeachment going on during the day, and his Glorious, Magnificent, Precisely-On-Target State of the Union speech during the evening. The word "surreal" (Websters: "having the intense, irrational reality of a dream") was used, oh, I don't know, maybe a kzillion times. Surreal was used as repetitively as could possibly be, even for these boshmeisters who have fine-tuned repetition into a an extraordinarily reliable twitprop technique. Goebbels would have been proud. And it is true: repeat anything enough to the nitbrained American yokels and they'll believe it, they'll buy it, they'll sell their children down the river for it.

However, I must ask, what is so surreal about Clinton's impeachment trial during the day and his speech that evening? What is so surreal about the media gushing ecstatically over the Liar-in-Chief no matter what foul deed he does or what unattainable idiocy he proclaims? Especially at this point in time? If you ask me, the surreal--this intense, irrational reality of a dream--has been going on for six years with the advent of the Clinton Occupation of America. In fact, the surreal has become quite normal. It is normal (Webster's: "conforming to a type, standard, a regular pattern") for the irrational and astonishing to occur at this presidential couple's White House. After all, what other president has his White House counsel die under still unexplained circumstances? What other president has a Cabinet member die in a mysterious plane accident in Bosnia, along with 34 top executives of major corporations? What other president could fill an entire morgue with the bodies that surround his rise to power? Press reporting on all these events has been par for the course--quick, explain it all away and call anyone who disagrees with their explanation a "conspiracy theorist" or "anti-government." Discrediting one's political enemies is another effective twitprop technique, as we all know.

Bill Clinton's actions are not at all surreal. Nor is the fact that he is adored and cosseted by the mainstream, bought-and-paid-for press. Without the aid of the mass media, Clinton would never have made it out of Little Rock, let alone into Washington. Without their blatant, extreme protection, he would have been tossed out of the Oval Office soon after his arrival, for it was but minutes after arrival that Hillary fired the Travel Office employees in order to give their jobs to cronies and friends. I could, needless to say, go on just about forever about the Continuous Neverending PrimeTime Scandals(TM) of the Clinton Administration, but anyone with a brain in the world today is familiar with them. This does not include the 76% of Americans who give their consent and high approval ratings to the president, of course. One cannot not accuse them of having brains--at least not to the extent of putting them to any use.

Thus, I am forced to quibble with the news fakers over at NPR. Our times are not surreal--our times are perfectly normal, business as usual. Our Mighty Lords of the Press have seen to that. So, don't forget: this is not an intense, irrational dream we're having. It's America, circa 0000.

Patricia Neill 1999

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22 January, 1999