Sunday, June 06, 1999
Planet of the Pundits
BY PETER BRONSON
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Each morning I visit a place where global warming gnaws holes in the ozone layer, the dog-eared ghost of Joe McCarthy stalks the marble halls of Congress and St. Hillary of Cattlefutures has already been declared the winner in her campaign for Earth Goddess.
This place is the “opinion wire,” where columns and editorials from all over the nation crawl across a screen on my desk.
I call it Planet of the Pundits because humans chatter like monkeys and try to throw a net over Charlton Heston.
In the opinion world, danger lurks around every corner, hiding in cigarette ads, SUVs, handguns, churches and Republican candidates. White rats are ritually sacrificed to ward off steaks, cigars, red wine and other evil spirits that may be hazardous. But dumping bombs on hospitals in Yugoslavia and selling nuclear weapons to China for campaign contributions — yawn, go back to sleep.
Multiple suns on Planet of the Pundits have fried so many brains that some columnists are seriously debating accusations that a fictional movie character — Jar Jar in Phantom Menace — may be a racist alien.
If I wrote “Wake up, America!” columns sounding the alarm about sinister homosexual tendencies of a Teletubbie cartoon character, readers would think I was a delusional crank who had fallen behind on my daily medication. They might be right.
But on Planet of the Pundits it is perfectly normal for adults to carpet-bomb each other with invective, bickering endlessly about the motives of imaginary characters like Jar Jar, the Little Mermaid or Murphy Brown's baby.
No wonder I am warped. Exposure to such deranged idiocy would drive Mr. Rogers to start looking for the nearest crack house in his neighborhood.
It has driven me to strange thoughts:
• I think history repeats itself — with a sense of humor. In the Spanish-American War, newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst was told by a reporter that there were no battles in Cuba to photograph. According to legend, Mr. Hearst replied, “You supply the pictures, I'll supply the war.”
Now the same thing has happened with Operation Allied Farce: CNN tycoon Ted Turner must have called up his buddy President Clinton and said, “I'll supply the pictures, you supply the war.” And it worked — to make us forget the impeachment.
• I think Cincinnati city leaders put plywood around the Tyler Davidson Fountain because they couldn't find enough rusted junk cars. Tourists may mistake the “mural” for shelf paper, think the peepholes are part of an adult theater and think “student artwork” looks like graffiti. But city officials don't care what tourists think. This has nothing to do with repairs or “safety.” Now that the city is being asked to pay for a new convention center, the city manager and council members are trying to make City Hall look like Snuffy Smith's shack after a bender on corn-squeezins. That's why so many sidewalks downtown are cracked and broken and litter skitters past boarded-up storefronts. The city is hiding a $14 million surplus under a straw-stuffed poverty mattress.
• I think a lot of us are not getting the therapy we need. I recently met with a group of physical and speech therapists who told me that managed care is not just a pain in the neck — it's a crippling disability for patients who don't get proper therapy.
In some cases, HMO approval is delayed until it's too late or the patient is too discouraged to show up. In other cases, “100 percent coverage” means the HMO will pay $10 of a $90 visit — leaving therapists to absorb the rest.
“Patients don't know they are getting substandard care,” they said.
It's the same “mangled care” described by nurses and doctors. Patients check into a hospital expecting Tiffany treatment — and get Big Lots health care.
• I think first prize should be awarded to the first pundit who points out that St. Hillary of Whitewater has spent more than $1 million in taxpayer money — drawing checks from the Pentagon budget — on her campaign visits to New York.
Second prize should go to the pundit who finds out what happened to the Bible that Bill kept waving around during his impeachment ordeal.
And what about all those preachers who were counseling him?
Did he get enough therapy?
I think just in case maybe we should put a plywood barrier around the White House — without the peepholes.
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. If you have questions or comments, call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. If you have questions or comments, call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
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