On Friday night, I sallied forth from the foothills of Nazareth to the Slate Belt highlands to hear all kinds of people driving big-ass SUVs and trucks complain that a possible data center proposed in Upper Bethel Tp will ruin the environment. I'll have more about that later but wanted to write about something else first. Before leaving, I watched the beginning moments of the White House Correspondents' Dinner and saw numerous people who I had supposed were journalists posing for photos in tuxedos and fancy gowns on some makeshift red carpet as though they were Hollywood stars. Women's Wear Daily actually had photos of people who certainly seem to be a more than a bit out of touch with the real world.
Since that time, I've seen numerous stories poking President Trump because he insulted the press, which presidents are expected to do when they attend these fancy galas. I've seen others claiming that his jokes fell flat during his rambling and lengthy exhortation. I don't know how they could stay awake.
The whole thing disgusts me. It's a given that I find Trump is a boor, and that's putting it gently. But what really offends me is that the reporters who supposedly exist to speak truth to power instead cozy up to and are in an incestuous relationship with it.
You want to have a dinner to pat yourselves on the back? Knock yourselves out. But drop the tuxes and gowns. Stop acting like celebrities with agents who negotiate your contracts and start acting like reporters. Instead of braying about Epstein every five seconds, start covering the very obvious corruption going on inside the Beltway cesspool.
I think Trump's disastrous presidency is a big story. But the incompetence of the Washington press establishment appears to be a bigger story. Instead of covering the actual stories, they are too busy playing tit for tat with Trump.
Freedom of the press? What press?
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