Michelle Malkin sees nothing funny about Mark Sanford’s Last Tango in Buenos Aires. I very rarely disagree with Malkin, but bitter humor is an occupational hazard:
Sarcasm is my natural metier, and spending two decades in the newroom tends to put a keen edge on one’s cynical indifference to the foibles of the famous and powerful. In some circles, a big-shot politician is like a rock star, so when a politician behaves like he’s on tour with Aerosmith, it brings out my inner Mencken. (He once remarked that the only way a journalist should ever look at a politician is down.)
My cynicism is bipartisan. Sanford’s Argentine escapade is, to me, as ludicrous and deserving of scornful laughter as any shenanigans of Gary Hart, Ted Kennedy or Bill Clinton.
If Bill Clinton is a punchline, Mark Sanford is a Monty Python routine.
