When I was nine years old, I bought my first issue of Mad Magazine. It was the October 94 issue, and the cover depicted the Clinton family as The Flinstones. Granted it was not that funny in hindsight, but in hindsight, I don’t remember thinking, “Gee, gosh, golly, goo! Bill Clinton is a cave man taking us
back to the stone ages.” I guess I thought it was funny. I guess I thought it was at least supposed to be funny.
This week The New Yorker, a prestigious magazine known for its wit, satire, and, most importantly, liberalness, put out this issue with Barack Obama dressed as a Taliban–or a “Muslim” as all the pundits are repeating–terrorist-fist-bumping his wife, the militant negro, with an American flag burning in a fireplace below a framed portrait of Osama bin Laden, and the media (basically everyone but The New Yorker) are saying that people may take this seriously?
If people take a look at this–a glance, a glare, a glued-to-the-page examination–and don’t get that this is a joke, that it is saying the exact opposite by being so over the top, then these people are the joke. These people are the ones whose existence needs to be rethought, who are tasteless, who are offensive. I love America. People call me anti-American, but I cannot hate the country that has given me my favorite artists, my favorite writers, and my favorite satirists. The same country that gave me Dr. Strange Love, The Daily Show, The Great Dictator is now, according to the media, capable of mistaking a cartoon for truth.
Of course, Americans do get it. The idea that Americans may take it literally or be confused is a myth purported by shows like Anderson Cooper 360. I actually respect Anderson Cooper; his contributions to skepticism and nontheism simply by carefully examining flim-flam and religious freedom are important to me. But yesterday his show sent a correspondent to a New York magazine stand to ask any passerby whether they think this is casting Obama in a negative or positive way. “Negative, I guess,” said one reluctant young woman. “The’yre saying he’s a Muz-lim?” asked another woman, obviously not understanding the question.
And those were the only two.
Now I’ve done this kind of reporting before. Going down to the street, polling people, getting quotes and taking notes. This is not something that is done in 10 minutes. At the least, this is a 30 minutes to 1 hour job, depending on what you’re looking for. Either this correspondent got two confused or stupid people and wrapped up, or they’re not showing you the rest of the people who were polled. The people who said, “I’m not stupid. That’s satire. That’s a joke. That’s the fucking New Yorker and that’s their fucking bread and butter.”
So what do I make of this pounce by the other media onto The New Yorker? Revenge. The New Yorker has been calling the media on its poor, make-news-out-of-nothing procedures all election (Reverend Wright, anyone?). So now they see The New Yorkers cover as an insensitive slip-up and have taken the liberty of accusing them of going to far. Incredibly their massive reaction seems to validate everything The New Yorker and media watchdogs have said in the past about their reactionary techniques.
