[Ed. note: Very short on time today; I promise a real post tomorrow. For now, read someone who GETS IT.]
For my money (okay, not for my money, since I wouldn’t pay a red cent any more for Len Downie’s rag, but still . . .), there are exactly three journalists at WaPo: Froomkin, Priest, and Robinson. Note that I did not say "three decent journalists," or any such variation; I said "three journalists," period. The rest are stenographers, at best (and that’s only by giving them an unholy benefit of the doubt, something I don’t for a moment).
Anyway, as the post-Iowa wankery continues unabated in most quarters, it’s refreshing to read someone like Gene. HE GETS IT. The rest of you out whores out there, take note.
For openers:
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: People in Washington really should get out more.
To which, of course, we normal folks are tempted to say, "No shit." Or maybe I mean "Amen." Or something. Let’s go with "No shit," since it’ll get Broderella’s knickers in a twist.
Gene rightly points out that Teh Villagers need not actually live inside Teh Beltway - in fact, I’d say it’s a good bet most of them don’t, even those who work inside it. Too many scary brown people, doncha know. Much safer in Alexandria, or Takoma Park, or some other nice white area. But in the words of the man himself:
By "Washington," I mean not just the city but the state of mind, and by "get out," I mean spend time surrounded not just by a different geography but by a different demography as well. If we did, the high-blown debates we have here — and by "we," I mean politicians, lobbyists, advocates, bureaucrats, scholars, journalists and all the rest trapped in the Washington echo chamber — might bear more relation to what people who live outside our bubble think of as reality.
He offers reactions to the Bhutto assassination as Exhibit A, but Exhibit B is what really curls my toes:
In Washington, it is conventionally wise to think of government gridlock as basically a good thing, even something that most Americans approve of. To have a president from one party and a Congress controlled — or at least reined in — by the other, we tell ourselves, prevents too-abrupt shifts in policy. Gridlock is supposed to force bipartisan consensus, which is held as a kind of Holy Grail, the only way to tackle the nation’s biggest problems.
But tell that to Iowans — or residents of most states, for that matter — who either don’t have health insurance or can’t get insurance companies to pay their medical bills. Tell it to Arizonans who have pressed their state government to implement its own immigration policy — shouldering what is clearly a federal responsibility — because Washington can’t get its act together. Tell it to military families, some in favor of the war in Iraq and some against, whose lives have been turned upside down by extended deployments with no end in sight.
Oh, yes, yes, YES!!!!! Sing it, baby!
But from the conversations I had with Iowans, it seemed clear to me that change is also shorthand for the disconnect between the Washington state of mind and the widespread expectation, hardly unreasonable, that this city ought to actually get something done every once in a while.
Whether it gets done after a bare-knuckle brawl or a chorus of "Kumbaya" really doesn’t matter.
Exactly. And Villagers, lemme tell ya, fuck "Kumbaya." We want the bare-knuckled brawl. Because it’s the only way we’ll actually get anything done - you know, that "anything" for which we pay you so handsomely. Your precious bipartisanship accomplishes - what? Illegal wars, health-care crises, housing meltdowns, planetary meltdowns . . . and you want us to thank you, while scuffing our toes and pleading in supplication, "Please, sir, may I have some more?" Fuck you with cast-iron adjustable-rate mortgage.
Finally, Gene describes Teh Villagers thusly:
an alien invasion of know-it-alls from Washington who descended to examine the locals as if they were specimens in a laboratory.
He includes himself in that assessment, which I think is a bit of unnecessary self-criticism. But his basic point is dead-on. Because, you see, to Teh Villagers, we’re not actually people: We’re just a nation of soggy socks waiting for the salvation of their own personal spin cycles.
Well, I got news for ya: Go knit your own damn socks for a change. See what honest labor feels like - if, of course, the shock to your system doesn’t kill you.
