Where Are the Journalists with a VOICE?
“I drink and I know things,” as Peter Dinklage (in the role of Tyrion Lannister) told us. Actually, I drink less these days, but I seem to know more. I’m old and battered. But I know more. And I write it with a bit of style. That should be worth something. In fact, if you’re a frequent visitor to The David Talbot Show, it’s worth $25 – or 50 bucks if you’re flush.
R. Crumb memorialized the day Warren Hinckle fell afoul of the SFPD
When I was coming up in the world of journalism, there were many stellar columnists and commentators. Men and women who, yes, drank and knew things – and told them to us with passion and conviction. These were the bylines that shook the halls of power, that got put on presidential enemy lists, or barred entry at City Hall. These ink-stained warriors were not afraid to pick fights with the high and mighty – or with left-wing piety -- and they made daily poetry of their crusades.
F. Stone knew where the muck was
I’m thinking of the likes of I. F. Stone, Molly Ivins, Alexander Cockburn, Stanley Crouch, Warren Hinckle, Pete Hamill and Jimmy Breslin. These were the scribes who got my motor running, who made me want to jump into the mosh pit of American journalism.
Stanley Crouch did not suffer fools — on the left or right
But nowadays, what do we have? Not so much. New York Times columnists like Thomas Friedman, David Brooks, Bret Stephens… dull, duller, dullest as Winston Churchill once mordantly summed up John Foster Dulles. The featured writers at my local San Francisco Chronicle are even worse (and this was a newspaper once known for its colorful columnists). There’s age-old Phil Matier who looks and reads like a cop. Then there’s a mush parade of younger columnists whose earnest, predictable, politically correct bleating makes them instantly forgettable.
Molly Ivins knew how to raise hell and have fun
In daily journalism, we’ve gone from the age of miracles and wonders to mediocrities.
I tried to liven things up when I was running Salon. We featured flaming voices like Crouch, Camille Paglia, Anne Lamott, Glenn Greenwald, Richard Rodriguez, and younger versions of Jake Tapper and Michelle Goldberg. And today we have a few digital mavericks like Matt Taibbi, who also know how to wield a slashing pen.
And you still have me.
Camille Paglia, one of my Salon’s most wicked and original voices
But drinking and knowing things doesn’t come free. If you like to check in at my barstool and hear what I’m mouthing off about, you should buy me a drink. That’s the way it works.
Come on, fellow barfly – dig in and donate today.