I forgot what I was gonna' say.

Maybe it was "I love most all you "jerks?"

Or maybe it was a word to the New Yorkers good dickers?

Maybe liberals can purchase a beautifuler combustion, motor mouth, with a broken head gasket? Yoo "Numbskull's" need to steal a 4-Wheeler Buick!

Or how 'bout a rusty muffler that features a rotten wood side rack with a faded painted militant green Farm Stud Truck?

Maybes' a ride in a 1948 Studebaker Farm vehicle for a nominal million dinar fee...(?!?) can relax the USA.

I am exceedingly unembarrassed?

Or am I a too numb-skull-shocked? duh. Never Mind.

I never too sure if I am on the earth's shore counting sea waves that crash upon me throughout all eternity (?) or dreaming THIS:

Or is there a prescribed RX medicinal chore for all eternity...gads. I'll do most anything for a feel of a 'fee-free'...Is that ignorant?

Will we be okay before we get married to each other?

I hope we not all too simple mental dopes...NOPE!

Hilariously put. You have made PERFECT use of Cohen's brilliant excretion.

Here's a similar one from "Dean" Broder:

"The gap between public opinion and Washington reality has rarely been wider than on the issue of the Iraq war"

Breathtaking.

I hope that in the midst of all the chortling and giggling this morning, no one leaves off sharpening the cutlery.

One, two, through and through -- we all know the drill. Glenn has once again brought home the bacon. The only thing missing now is the apple for Mr. Cohen's mouth. Perhaps Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert can find one for us while we're waiting for the oven to come up to the proper temperature.

You forgot to mention those communist sympathizers in the Veep's office who enticed Libby to make false statements to the FBI and lie under oath in the first place!

certifiedprepwn3d - thanks, appreciated. now i just wish i could go back and fix the @%!&* typo in that post.

Another typically spot-on post from Glenn. I only have one quibble.

Glenn says, "The relationship between official Washington and the permanent Beltway media class has become infinitely closer and more cooperative than ever before...Many elite national journalists are incentivized to protect and defend powerful political leaders with whom they so frequently interact and on whom they depend for their access and their 'scoops.'"

This seems to be a plausible explanation but it fails once you look back at the 90's. It only works that way if you are Republican.

That is why the media whores, like Richard Cohen, are guilty not just of sins of omission, they are actively harming non-Republicans. And, by extension, since the Republicans are actively undermining the principles and values this country was founded upon, the media whores are complicit in those crimes as well.

I've been watching this occur for the last 20 years or more. These conclusions are firmly established.

So what are we gonna do about it?

If Cohen's argument is correct, and such political matters were best to be performed "with the lights off," i.e., not under the mythical harsh scrutiny of an independent press, then logically there is no need either for large corporations such as the Washington Post or anyone else to pay lots of money to "journalists".

In which case, major news production companies can hire cheap bloggers and other hangers on to go interview powerful insider politicians and simply write whatever the powerful wish to say.

In fact, Cohen has just given an extremely effective argument for outsourcing his gossip position to India, since any aspiring gossip blogger from India can obtain fascinating quotes and propaganda myths from government officials by calling them on the VOIP phone.

Who needs a Richard Cohen to talk to at an expensive rhetoric, when the exact same lies and myths can be taken and printed by outsourced Indian gossip bloggers at a fraction of Cohen's inflated price?

Y'all make some good points about opportunism. The thing is that journalists know that if they get caught, there will be consequences. Yeah, they (with their editors and publishers behind them, hopefully) will try to make the best of it, but it is how the game is played, my friend.
Another special thing about the Plame case, in contrast to other leaks you allude to, is the issue of compromising cover in the process, possibly endangering lives of other operatives and informants.
Confidentially,
Gordon Ginsberg

As usual, this column gets to the point. Thank you. Cohen's article inspires this parable. It is long, so take it off the thread if it does not seem appropriate.

"It is often best to keep the lights off" when you are with a bear:

An Inspirational Love Story

As they say in the song, I'd been "looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love in too many faces." I'd gone to cocktail parties and fundraisers. I'd put time in on the campaign buses and visited the rose garden I had never been promised. But still, I was lonely until I met the bear.

I sat a booth at the 7-11 drinking a Yoohoo when he walked in. My heartbeat quickened; my breath became shallow. I knew I must be in love (or in abject fear for my life). How could I know?

The bear slid over with another tall one and asked, "What's a nice reporter like you doing in a place like this?"

I didn't know. I was used to the lights of Washington, the witty jokes about the war at cocktail parties ("How many soldiers does it take to screw in a light bulb?" "I don't know? How many did Halliburton requisition this week?") the little black dresses and little black books, the clandestine meetings with anonymous sources in back alleys that finally helped me understand how "Deep Throat" got his name.

Yes, I'd had good times, but somehow none of it seemed real. But this bear was real: real tall, real big, and I was either really scared or really in love.

The bear said, "Why don't you come on down to my place?"

I hesitated, "I may be in love with you bear, but then again, you might just want to kill me. What should I do?"

"Just trust me," the bear said.

I though back to what all my mentors in the world of journalism had taught me. If an anonymous bear says "trust me," a editor had once told me, go ahead and trust. As long as the bear remains anonymous, no one can say he is wrong. Only those accountable can tell a lie, or be accountable for telling a lie, and that's what counts as the truth.

So I followed the bear to his car. Again, my heart raced. He might kidnap me and tear me to pieces. So I asked, "Can I really trust you?"

"I'm from the administration," the bear said. That put my mind at ease. My editors had told me that anonymous bears from the administration are always trustworthy. Administrative means authoritative. So I managed his pawing through the car ride with only a few lacerations and was contended that a short hospital visit would take care of the wounds.

Then we got to the bear's apartment. I said to the bear, "I think I love you, but can I trust you?"

The bear laughed, "I know Larry from the Christmas Party! We went to prep school together! We're in the same scrapbooking club!"

Oh! That set my mind at ease. We had the same friends. Traveled in the same circles. Of course I could trust him.

The bear opened the door to his apartment, and I walked in. The room was completely dark. I shivered for a moment. "Can I trust you?" I asked one more time.

"It is often best to keep the lights off," the bear answered. He then tore off my left arm and began to eat it.

I was aghast. How could this bear betray me? "You said I could trust you?" I exclaimed as blood spurted out of my body.

"You can trust me to be a bear." The bear said.

I fell into a coma.

I lost my limbs that day, but I learned a valuable lesson.

Of course, I can trust anonymous, unaccountable, administrative loves: I can trust them not to be held to account. I can always trust a bear to be a bear.

The bear and I were married and now live together.

Looking for love in all the wrong places? Looking for love in too many faces? Remember what the bear told me. Don't worry! In relationships, "It is often best to keep the lights off."

So if you are on a date and your heart starts pounding and your breath becomes short as your date bears his fangs, remember that you have nothing to fear. You are only in love.

As Tony Soprano would say, "Don't stop believing."