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Muzak for a Down Elevator
I've been away on family business in Pennsylvania, so I'm trying to catch up here at the Iconoclast. One of the many posts that caught my attention was Hugh Fitzgerald's Friday piece, What's NPR's Excuse?
It's worth quoting the first two paragraphs:
Regarding the Mumbai bombings, a great deal of time and huffing and puffing is going into examining, as happened on NPR's "On Point" recently, whether or not Al Qaeda is involved, or Lashkar-e-Toiba, or Pakistan's ISI, or the man in the moon. The correct answer is: they all wish India ill. All could have had a hand in it, all share the same aim, all but that proverbial man in the moon -- unless he is a Muslim Believer, in which case he too is adding his mite to the Jihad.
The same program was a classic study in wasting the valuable time of listeners on trivia and carefully tiptoing around the subject of Islam. Why is it that there is no conception of having a duty to discuss, straight on, the contents of Islam, the Qur'an and Sunnah? Why is there no felt need, by the NPR muck-a-mucks, to force such people as Tom Ashbrook to learn about the contents of Islam, and then the history of Jihad-conquest, and give evidence of such? Do they not, does Ashbrook not, have a duty to instruct -- but first to learn a bare minimum themselves?
Is NPR, in fact, national or public? A creature of Democratic congressmen of yore, it is now, for all intents and purposes Blue State Radio, its top people drawn mostly from the Northeast. Products of Left-oriented universities, they preach the anti-West, multi-cultural line, but are themselves beholden to the fruits of capitalism and anything but multi-cultural in their own organization's demographics. That makes them by turns schizoid and cynical. Kind of a baby BBC by way of the New York Times.
But that's not why I stopped listening to them ages ago; I simply can't take the NPR Voice, which, instead of lulling me into the hypnotic state prerequisite for suggestion, always produces a strangly cloying claustrophopia. Then, the Kafkaesque nightmare: These voices are the ones heard on elevator speakers, the elevators that only go down.