Reading Between the Lines
When the Founding Fathers were thinking about Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press, I doubt that they had Moammar Gadhafi’s demise in mind or any other of those sordid details.
I like my news, too. I like to know what’s going on, so I sound urbane and informed, but the news has become like a frienemy who barges in with too much information.
There is our frienenemy at the window talking and yammering away about herself, her latest operation and the details of her divorce and/or colonoscopy. We excuse ourselves for some herbal tea or maybe an Excedrin when she starts knocking on the back door. We can hear her voice all the way from the medicine cabinet.
We open the door and say we need to take a nap, but she is as deaf as a doorpost, clueless, and does not stop. Finally, we think about doing away with her or maybe sending her to the hospital. Maybe a little strangulation or a slip or fall, but we don’t because we have dogs and kids to feed and a mortgage to pay. Besides, orange or those awful horitintal black and white stripes aren’t good on most people, and on it goes with the news as well.
I understand their need and desire to impart the news. I (sort of, provided it’s not too gruesome) want to know what’s going on, but do we really need pictures of Gadhafi and his son in their most current, unpresentable states when a nice general description would do? Something like: “Head Nut Offed Today” or “Head Nut’s Son Met His Maker after one Last Sip of Water and a Last Drag off a Cig” followed by some terse description.
I know that people were mad at him. I know he was asking for it; I just don’t want to watch.