Remember Joseph, the one with the rainbow coat? Joseph had some old-fashioned ideas. Like: don’t sleep with other guys’ wives. Crazy old school, that Joseph. Remember Joseph’s big mistake? Being alone with the boss’s wife. She wanted him. He refused her advances. Hers. Potiphar’s wife was Sexy. Powerful. Arrogant. Not accustomed to being denied. When she made her advances, Joseph ran out of the room. She tore the clothing right off his back.
Whew. Near miss, right? Wrong. Just by being alone with Potiphar’s wife, Joseph put himself at the mercy of a her-story-vs.-his dynamic, and it didn’t play in his favor. A reasonable person might come up with the idea, the policy if you will, not to put himself in such a position. Enter Mike Pence.
Joseph and Mike Pence have this in common: both reap a flogging for their integrity. I’m trying not to throw up in my mouth as I type this, but it’s getting difficult. Do I actually live in a society that shells a man for putting up boundaries of purity in his marriage? To say you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t is the biggest understatement of our culture. I offer the following clip as proof:
Trump: I moved on her, actually. You know, she was down on Palm Beach. I moved on her, and I failed. I’ll admit it.
Trump: I did try and *&%# her. She was married.
Unknown: That’s huge news.
Huge. News. So is a man who won’t. The preceding is an actual tape. It’s not someone’s version of what happened. It’s what actually happened. But even when you’re being given what actually happened, it’s often cut and pasted, censored, sifted. You get the parts someone else thinks are important. Another example: The Diary of Anne Frank. Most of us read it as part of our school curriculum. But the diary I was given was cleaned up by Anne’s father, who decided some parts lacked decorum. I remember my jaw dropping when I read the unabridged version, which is delightful in its own right, but is not the same “truth” one gets from the abridged version. Anne is more complex, no angel. She’s not the Laura Ingalls Wilder dropped into WWII to whom I was introduced.
The idea of fake news is on everyone’s lips these days. I’d like to tell you a story, a story about fake news. Now, should you believe me? I mean, some of you don’t even know me. Of this you can be certain: I have an agenda, and it will find its way into my story. Be certain also that every other source from which you ever, ever get your information– also has an agenda. No one is pure. No one is entirely exempt. Everyone puts their own spin on the tale, and the most talented spinners get their versions published. Even if, like me, you get your fake news from opposite ends of the continuum (Fox News and MSNBC), the “facts” you’re given may not even be facts at all.
To wit. In Bob’s Cooker days he was asked by a local news station if he’d like to cook the tailgate fare for a demonstration. It was spring, and the Cleveland Indians were getting set for another season, and you know what that means? Or did mean.
Before the “C,” it meant the uprising of indignant Native Americans. The news story of disgruntled Native Americans was as cyclical as the leaves budding or the crocuses coming up. There’s a crocus. I wonder when the news story will come out about the angry Indians?
Bob cooked the tailgate food. He had to be downtown early. Like wee morning hours. I’m not sure why, but that’s because I don’t understand how to create fake news. Bob cooked for the single Indian who was summoned downtown, as Bob was, for the angry-Indian-demonstration complete with tailgate food. If you watched that news clip, you’d come away certain Cleveland was about to go up in flames of angst akin to the Irish-Protestant conflagrations of the 1970’s– Indians against white-suburbanites, war whoops be coming down your subdivisions, people, if you don’t depose that inflammatory red face.
It took 15+ years to complete the coup against our baseball mascot. If real Indians feel better about the move, super. If real Indians demonstrated for their cause, great. But that day, the day the cameras were rolling, it was a stage. There were actors. It was fake. It was news. But we got a real change. Our Chief Wahoo for a “C.” Oh… so personal, that “C.” So unique. So innovative.
Mike Pence loves his wife. Very old-fashioned of him, I know. Dinner dates, alone with the opposite sex– that’s a line he’s drawn in the sand. Some voices don’t respect his line. They’re churning out lots and lots of news about his line. What I see is a contest. The winner sways the public to believe their version of the news, to sculpt the world through the medium of public opinion.