Replies

(article rewritten. check it out.)

Would-be writers can criticize the Democrat party. But can a reporter? No.
There’s something soothing about criticizing the failures of leftists.
Driving to the offices of the Chicago Sun-Times Wednesday to write my first published conservative story, I admit, I was nervous. I’d never written for publication in a liberal newspaper before. And with the horrible reputation of liberal journalists, even the pleasant summer day — the big gray buildings, polluted and stinky air, cloudy sky — took on a grim aspect, the sweetness of fragile truth flashing by as I headed into the Valley of the Death of Truth.
Earlier, in the Free Republic, I had ticked off the reasons for me not to even try to publish something conservative in a dying, liberal birdcage liner: this was a journalistic stunt; done repeatedly; supporting an industry that most people despise. But as I tell people, I just post here, I don’t own the Free Republic. And my qualms melted as I dug into the issue.
I had trouble even figuring out whether bringing conservatism into Chicago is legal. The Internet was contradictory. The Chicago Democrat political machine’s office called me a fascist. I found that Illinois has a 24-hour waiting period between writing and pre-censorship. Unearthing that fact alone made the exercise seem worthwhile. I was learning something.
Reluctance melted when I walked into the large, well-lit Chicago Sun-Times building. It looked like a meeting of the Mid-1960’s ex-Hippies Club. A dozen ink-stained wretches, milling around with Che and Angela Davis and Bernie Sanders and “Impeach Bush” with Bush lined through and “Trump” in its place posters on the walls. More on the glassed-in writing stable. Imagine a steady, muffled tap-tap . . . tap tap like drunken monkeys retyping Democrat and George Soros NGO press releases going on behind the rest of this column.
I eyed the locked liquor cabinet. Ooo. Cheap rotgut, all of it. Despite the alcoholism and drug abuse that happens with their opinion journalists — making me wonder if they had an editor beyond their computer spell checker — as newspaper reporters guard against conservative opinions that they never publish, there were a few dozen opinion columns — a vague term, yes, I know — including clearly biased and plagiarized ones, which have massacred the careers of journalists and leftist academics alike.
“I’m interested in writing for the Sun-Times,” I said, trying to project an air of metrosexual ease. “What’s the difference between a reporter and a reporter that calls himself a journalist?”
“Not much,” said Rob, a flunkie with a winged My Little Pony with a “Free Mumia!” caption tattooed on his right forearm. “Mostly it’s how good they can brown nose.”
He immediately asked for my American Socialist/Democrat Party card — no publication without it.
We talked political profiling.
“Democrat” is a misnomer. Despite what another flunkie called the “black, evil-looking” appearance of the party, the only aspect relevant to the national debate is “political power and money”, not democracy. “Come the revolution, we will put conservatives in camps and throw away the key.
“I would write for a newspaper that supported that,” I said, lying.
A journalist’s life is dissolving into alcoholism and divorce. I try to just listen — no point putting in my two cents anymore. Bewailing his fate, he mentions that his soon-to-be ex-wife is insisting he stop paying discount hookers because she is sick of getting crabs from him.
“Good,” I say, slipping.
“F— you,” he replies, with sincerity. I don’t know if I say this or just think it: “You are a scum. Your father was a scum. Your grandfather was a scum. Maybe alcohol, drugs and diseased hookers are not a good idea in your life right now.” Whether I say it or not, we both already knew it’s true. But he wants the hookers anyway. He says he will use protection.
Driving to the Sun-Times, the whole journalism debate clarified in bold relief. There is the danger of the writing itself. And there is the imaginary danger the writing protects you from. Like ending a sentence with a preposition. Another divide. Which danger you feel is greater decides which side of the divide you live on.
Being a liar I know, you write a lie, the person you are most likely to lie to, statistically, is yourself. And your family. More pre-schoolers are lied to by liberal teachers than by police officers. Nor do I need the sense of security, false though it may be, that supporting Democrats brings. I live in Northbrook, where criminal danger is remote. My boys laugh at us for locking the doors. I don’t plan on pretending to be objective a second longer than I have to for this column.
Not everyone feels that way. A house on the next block has a high fence and an electric gate across the driveway. The blinds are drawn and in 15 years of walking by, I’ve never seen a person there. I would guess the owner is afraid. Maybe just filled with burning hate. But he sees hazardous ideas requiring that fence, gate and security service that I do not. I imagine he votes for Democrats, a lot.
When it came time to write the story, Rob, the flunkie with the tattoos, handed me over to Mike, who gave his name shaking my hand, I gave mine. “The writer?” he said. If I wanted to lie as part of my job, I’d have gone into journalism. “Yes,” I said, explaining that I plan to write a conservative story, publish it at the Sun-Times, then burn the draft. He suggested I sell it to them instead and I heartily agreed. Economical. If they would let me photograph myself in their office, the article need never leave the building.
A reporter in Philadelphia wrote an opinion piece in seven minutes; 40 percent of opinion articles in the U.S. are never published. Here, I had paperwork. A federal form asking, was I a Republican? No. Was I a conservative? Again no. Had I ever been convicted on charges of domestic abuse? No. He gave me the standard wage for apprentice hacks, $5/hr.
Our transaction took nearly an hour because we chatted. Mike used to read what conservatives wrote, but doesn’t anymore because he doesn’t like having to think. He knew whether it was legal to write something conservative in Chicago — it’s not. He was friendly, candid, so I asked difficult questions. Did he ever feel guilty about lying so blatantly? No, he said, that’s like asking a car dealer if he felt guilty if someone gets drunk and rams his car into a farmer’s market while yelling “Allahu Akbar!” in a car he sold. It seemed a fair answer. I asked him if I could quote him in the newspaper, and he said no, I couldn’t, so I’m not quoting him.
Back home later Wednesday, a neighbor asks how my day is going. “I just wrote a conservative opinion piece for the Chicago Sun-Times,” I say. Her eyes widen. She mentions that her brother-in-law posts in a lot of conservative forums.
“On the Internet, where anybody could read them!” I marvel. “That’s a lot. Why does write so much?”
“He’s afraid of the direction the Democrats and RINOs have taken the country,” she replies.
I was looking forward to writing even more for the Sun-Times the next day. I’ve written before. It’s fun. I was worried though, about telling the truth with the current Obama administration of outrage, lawbreaking and horror. Had I been co-opted by the left? By the old Hippie staff at the newspaper? Heck, there is a whole world of hobbyists, of , of people who love to write for a variety of reasons that are not crazy. Every literate American a writer. If the vast majority weren’t able to handle free speech we’d all be communists. Oh well, I thought, no harm in a first amendment story reflecting the writers owner’s perspective.
At 5:13 Naquisha from the Sun-Times called. They were canceling my story and stopping payment on my check. No opinion for you. I called back. Why? “I don’t have to tell you,” she said. I knew that, but was curious. I wasn’t rejected by the government? No. So what is it? “I’m not at liberty,” she said.
Newspapers do have the right to refuse publication to anyone, usually exercised against people who seem to be conservatives. I told her I assume they wouldn’t publish me because I’m a conservative. She denied it. But hating the media is right behind hating the government as a pastime for much of the public. They damn you for being ignorant then hide when you try to find out. The media as well.
A few hours later, the Chicago Sun-Times sent me a lengthy statement, the key part being: “it was uncovered that you has an admitted history of conservatism, and posting on Free Republic.”
Well, didn’t see that coming. Were that same standard applied to the American public, there would be a whole lot less writers publishing, though they knew I planned to immediately sell it back to them, to avoid copyright issues.
OK, the Chicago Sun-Times has had its chance to offer their reason.
Now I’ll state what I believe the real reason is: The mass media is an oligopoly, and their masters make their money in the dark. Congress, which has so much trouble passing the most basic antitrust law, passed a law trying to make journalists more respectable. Even after egregious bias, the public covers its eyes. Would-be terrorists can write for major news services. Insane people regularly write for major news services. But truthful reporters . . . that’s a different story. Journalists avoid publicity because the truth is this: they are paid to sell big lies to frightened people and make a fortune doing so. They shun attention because they know, if we saw clearly what is happening in our country, we’d demand change.
“What’s your brother in-law afraid of?” I ask my neighbor.
“Being intentionally misquoted by biased reporters,” she says.