How One Man’s Centrism Cost Us a Titan
By Montgomery “Monty” Blackwood
I awoke this morning to the news that esteemed journalist Terry Moran, a man whose career I have followed with a mixture of professional admiration and personal envy, has joined the MeidasTouch Network. They are, I am sure, thrilled. They have gained a correspondent of immense integrity and experience, a man who has covered everything from the Supreme Court to the White House with a steady, intellectual grace.
I, however, am furious. Not at Mr. Moran, and not at MeidasTouch.
I am furious at Chuck Todd.
As some of you may recall, we recently extended a generous offer to Mr. Moran to join this very publication. It was a plea from one weary soul to another, an invitation to abandon the sinking ship of mainstream news and board our charming, if structurally unsound, satirical lifeboat. I have no doubt he was considering it. I am told he appreciates a good whiskey and a profound sense of despair, both of which we offer in abundance.
But then, Chuck Todd happened.
He waltzed into our offices for a job interview, a man so steeped in the culture of “both sides” that he could find the moderate middle ground in a cage match. He fundamentally misunderstood the term “hard-hitting journalism,” and the resulting fracas, which involved several of my staff members and a rather sturdy floor lamp, seems to have spooked Mr. Moran.
One can only assume that Terry, a man of dignity and standards, heard about the incident and concluded, quite reasonably, that our newsroom was no place for a civilized human being. He saw the rot of modern punditry embodied by Mr. Todd—a man who would rather analyze the “optics” of being hit with a chair than admit that being hit with a chair is, in fact, a bad thing—and he fled. He fled into the waiting arms of MeidasTouch, a place that, one assumes, does not settle editorial disputes with fisticuffs.
So, congratulations to Me. Moran. And congratulations to MeidasTouch. You have gained a titan of the industry. As for us, we are left with the lingering stench of failure and the ghost of Chuck Todd’s centrist equivocations. I blame him. I blame him entirely. Now if you’ll excuse me, the bar is open.
