I wrote a piece for Medium titled “In which my subscription to the New York Times becomes a (tiny) act of protest.”
It’s hard to imagine, a subscription to the New York Times would become an act of protest. But, these are strange days. Normals are no longer normal. Things we never thought we’d see, are now shockingly commonplace.
I don’t always agree with the Times. I’m aware they have a liberal lean. It is not as bad as most, but still it’s my job as a reader, to be objective about that potential bias. Along with my favorite NPR, they’re close to center of truth. And the truth is a rarity these days.
Sure, people might argue that the facts don’t matter anymore, and we’ve been living in a post-truth world for so long, our politicians think they can get away with telling us ‘the news media is the enemy of the people.’ They think they can tell us just about anything, and we’ll eat it up.
...his very presence at the podium was an orgy of make-believe.
He claimed the media, not he, was the common denominator in the slew of bad news that persistently dogged his campaign. That he, a swaggering plutocrat, who literally has a gold toilet in his Manhattan high-rise penthouse, gave a rats-ass what became of coal miners and their families. That a twice-divorced man with three failed marriages gave a shit about the institution of family. That an unrepentant philanderer cared for sanctity of life or that a sexual predator who routinely grabs women by the crotch could be a champion for women’s rights.
Here was a man whose inherited fortune was barely kept afloat only through sheer fuckery and caucasian luck (his inheritance would have fared better as a Roth IRA), yet he expects to be revered as a savvy businessman.
He told us he was a powerful and compassionate man with regular-sized hands—a capable man of influence and wealth—as opposed to what we could clearly see with our own eyes, which was a basted Easter ham, garnished with a taxidermy wig and squeezed into a too-tight collar to suffer, quite publicly, the pangs of an inferiority complex so robust, it would have made Mussolini blush.
Our free press is under attack, and I wanted to do something about it. I’m aware that, as far as protests go, a subscription to the Times is pedestrian, not to mention self serving. Even though, it’s puny, we’ve got to start somewhere.
I don’t believe in disclaimers, so here is a disclaimer: this blog post isn’t about fishing for compliments, or even aligning myself with an agenda—it’s about the news, and how, collectively, we’re being asked to disregard our own common sense and replace it with hocus-pocus.