The Spectacle Blog
Announcing the appointment of Tony Snow as press secretary -- addressing the assembled press gaggle -- the president said, "He knows most of you and agreed to take the job anyway." That about sums it up. Best of luck, Tony.
The BBC sent a reviewer to the Tribeca film festival yesterday at which "United 93" debuted in the U.S. The reviewer, to the seeming surprise of the two radio anchors who set up his story, pronounced the film one of the best he had ever seen. For a habitual (if cynical) BBC listener, this was the purest sort of turnaround. From the Beeb, one expects at least a little supercilious irony, a little arch superiority. Not a speck of that in the reviewer's comments on "United 93."
Tony Snow, it was confirmed last night, will be the new White House press secretary. I've known him since he was a columnist for the Washington Times. He'll do a great job for the president and not just because he's a very skilled journalist with a good grip on what's happening around the world. Snow is a rarity in Washington: an A-level reporter who is also a very good person. Let's all wish him well in a terrifically hard job.
Larry, Were this the only bit I was behind the curve on!
You're behind the curve on this one, Shawn. That's Nina Burleigh writing, she of the offer, back in the Clinton years, to give Bubba "a b.j. myself for keeping abortion legal."
I came across a remarkable column on AlterNet today about a mother's revulsion at her five year-old boy's patriotism and her joy at his shedding of the lies his teacher told him. It's insanely long-winded, but worth checking out for a few choice bits. An electronic sample platter:
The Harlem unit of the National Guard was putting on a Christmas clothing drive for Iraqi children. On the way into the city, I tried to explain to my son what we were doing, and -- as best I could -- why. As we crossed the George Washington Bridge and the Manhattan skyline spread out below us, I began to give him a variation on the "Africans don't have any food, finish your dinner" talk. I wanted him to understand how privileged he was to live in a place where bombs don't rain from the sky. It was a talk I'd tried to have before, but not one he'd ever paid much attention to until that day, trapped in the backseat of our car.