Over the years, I have traveled throughout the far west—recreationally and professionally. My itinerary has included Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Utah, Arizona and states along the nation’s west coast where I once lived. But I have never crossed a state line or landed at an airport identified as being in  Wyoming. Nor do I know anyone claiming to be from Wyoming. I’ve seen photographs of  the Grand Teton mountain range and other landmarks that are supposedly located in Wyoming. And history books allege Wyoming was admitted as the 44th state to the union. Therefore, I assume it really exists, especially since my wife, Annette, claims to have seen Wyoming with her own baby blue eyes. And I know she would never tell me a lie.

My doubts about the existence of Wyoming, particularly as being part of the United States, stems from years of listening and reading about the rants of former Vice President Dick Cheney and his daughter, Liz. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Mr. Cheney’s birth certificate. Could it be…..? Nah, he and Liz probably just live in ignorance of basic rights guaranteed by our country, as do many others, unfortunately. In the Cheney”s Wyoming world, torture is okay and legal representation of suspected terrorists is not okay.

Indeed, Liz Cheney is co-chairman of an organization called, “Keep America Safe.” Its most recent cause in keeping America safe from lawyers, who have the audacity to represent terrorists before tribunals and/or in criminal trials. In her zeal, she has outed group of Justice Department lawyers described  euphemistically as the ”al-Qaeda seven” because they once defended suspected terrorists. In the narrow minds of Liz and her cohorts, protecting the rights of defendants apparently makes the attorneys traitors. 

Could it be that she is not stupid as she seems—that her smear tactics amount to gutter politics in an effort to damage the Obama Administration? Would she stoop that low in the face of criticism leveled at her by arch conservative friends, who are lawyers or former officials in the Bush Administration. No doubt, Liz’s daddy gave her lessons in how to fight dirty. He is a master at allowing politics to overshadow conscience and morality.

Although I occasionally covered national politics during my ten-year CNN tenure, I am quick to acknowledge that my Washington ”inside-the-belt” wisdom is limited. Nevertheless, in the course of my 30-year investigative reporting career, I associated with a lot of criminal defense lawyers. They sometimes represented defendants accused of heinous crimes, ranging from drug smuggling to vicious killings to organized crime racketeering to murderous dictatorships. The obligations of these attorneys were to protect the rights of the accused. Legal advocacy does not translate into advocacy of crimes, whether it is defending terrorists or shoplifters.

For several years, criminal defense lawyer and political activist Camille Gravel, served as  legal counsel to Louisiana Governor Edwin Edwards. I was a longtime acquaintance, though we were never close. The Alexandria resident was among the most respected political figures in the state as evidenced by the eulogies that followed his death five years ago. While working for ABC Close Up in 1981, I happened to run into Camille at a convention of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers in Alberquerque, New Mexico. I was then living in Boston and working out of New York City, so I was only vaguely aware of what was going on in my adopted home state. When our conversation turned to the subject of Governor Edwards and legal problems he faced. I joking asked, “Can’t you keep him out of trouble, Camille?”

The answer is one that defines the role of legal advocates. “My job, John, is to explain the law to the Governor. Or for that matter, anyone I represent. If I defend client against criminal charges, my obligation to protect their rights to a fair trial.”

I don’t know how the law works in Wyoming. Most likely, the same as in the other 49 states. However, it must be different in the state of the minds of the Cheneys and other wing-nuts willing to reliquish the principles on which our country is built. Syndicated Washington Post columnist Eugene Robinson used the term, “McCarthyism,” this week in describing Liz Cheney’s outing of Justice Department lawyers as being disloyal in their defense of the rights of suspected terrorists.

I think Robinson was being too fair to her.

Inside journalism circles there is much weeping, wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth over the National Enquirer’s Pulitzer Prize nomination for an exposé of John Edward’s loose zipper. As someone who built an investigative reporter career based on journalism prizes, I say, “Who gives a flying…whatever?”

I evolved over 30 years of muckraking from reporter to ”investigative” reporter to “award winning” investigative reporter to “Peabody” award winning investigative reporter  to “four-time” Peabody award winning investigative reporter to ”retired” four time Peabody award winning investigative reporter. At various junctures, all the above phrases were used in job-seeking letters and various other capacities—including egotistical boasts about my prowess as a journalist.

But the fact of the matter is I didn’t deserve all (emphasis on all) the accolades, which is easy to say since I no longer send résumés to prospective employers. Indeed, these days my boasting is confined to Facebook, mass e-mails, my website, this blog, book peddling in radio and TV interviews, during personal appearances and in conversations with everyone in earshot. Why? Because the prizes give me a sense of legitimacy.

And legitimacy is what the National Enquirer seeks. That ain’t going to happen, whether it receives the Pulitzer or not. The weekly tabloid will continue to be a supermarket curiosity that features blazing headlines to  titillate shoppers standing in line at check-out stands. Who among us has not been tempted to buy the Enquirer after seeing a particularly provocative headline? I’m reasonably certain I have bought an issue, though I don’t know when and why. Maybe it was after I received a $50.00 check from the Enquirer.

 An Enquirer reporter had contacted me about some aspect of the Jimmy Swaggart sex scandals. My recollection is that I was not much help. Surprisingly, though, a check arrived a few days later and I faced the dilemma of taking money from a trashy tabloid. I considered my options for at least a full minute before racing to the bank to cash the windfall.

Anyway, regardless of what pointy-head journalism professors and self-righteous reporters say, I believe the Enquirer deserves a Pulitizer. The damning pictures and accompanying stories about John Edwards knocking up a woman who worked for his Presidential campaign significant. It is not comparable to the Washington Post’s Watergate reporting by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward. Still,  the Enquirer’s enterprise exposed the hypocrisy of a leading candidate and even the possible misuse of campaign funds.

In my mind, that fits the definition of investigative reporting, although a better definition would be ”investigative skulking.” The reporters nailed down the story by staking out the offices of obstetricians and a hotel lobby where Edwards was photographed before and after a visit with his paramour.

In my early days as an “investigative reporter, skulking was a television speciality. The first two Peabody medallions I collected were for secretly collecting video in Miami while concealed in a “snoop van.”  My initial spying adventure caught south Florida’s top state prosecutor and a prominent judge meeting on a weekly basis with bookies, who had close ties to notorious mobster Meyer Lansky. My reporting consisted of learning about the meetings from law enforcement sources, then sitting in the back of the van in a shopping center parking lot for several Saturdays as a photographer filmed the encounters. I expended a little bit more effort in documenting the story by tracking the gamblers back to meetings with Lansky.

By primitive television investigative reporting standards, my reporting and the video passed for high art. So much so that TV Guide did a lengthy article praising me and reporters at other Miami stations for our innovative skulking.  

My second Peabody was also a  result of spying—this time on so-called mafia racketeers. My enterprise consisted of adding pictures to law enforcement intelligence reports that were leaked to me. Again, I spent considerable time in the back of a van, as well as going out on my own with a hand-held camera to catch the bad guys on film. In retrospect, neither of my early “investigative” stories would warrant consideration for major journalism prizes today. Despite these disparaging comments about two of my Peabody awards, both remain displayed on the wall of my office. I never considered returning them to sender.

More deserving were my third and fourth Peabody awards—one for an investigative documentary about TV preacher Jimmy Swaggart’s financial dealings and his spiritual manipulation of followers, the other a documentary exposing the corrupt dealings between Louisiana’s Insurance Commissioner and a company he was supposed to regulate. The regulator and executives of the insurance company all went to prison.

These kind of results are an important consideration in awarding journalism prizes. There is no doubt that the National Enquirer  investigation of John Edwards got results, even though the mainstream media was slow to acknowledge the truth of the stories. Now that we know the truth, I hope the Pulitizer panel will give the tabloid its just reward.

In today’s journalism environment, the threshhold of legitimacy has sunk so low that anything deserves award consideration if it goes beyond the speculation of idiot pundits and the opinions expressed by airhead anchors and correspondents. 

I have deliberately omitted the “F” word because bad journalism applies to every television network.

I’m speaking today to the Sons of the American Revolution, so I’ve spent a little time pondering 1776 and what it means. To a great extent, my early investigative reporter ancestors sewed the roots of revolution. They distributed pamphlets raging about the rule of King George III. Indeed, I was among the muckrakers doing an exposé of the King. But 200 years later.

In 1976, Miami’s NBC affiliate produced a faux newscast on July 4th  depicting stories of the revolutionary era. As the station’s investigative reporter, I appeared in costume slinging mud at the King over corrupt activities. I don’t recall the specifics, other than it had something to do with profiteering by the monarch’s friends. Sound familiar?

As an aside, my 18th century costume was more appropriate than the garb I wore for my television debut three years before. On that occasion I dazzled south Florida with a gleaming white polyester coat, a black silk shirt, a sparkling, wide-body white tie and tinted glasses that turned opaque under the glare of studio lights. The station owner was not among those dazzled by my fashion. “I thought we hired this guy to investigate the mafia, not join it,” he said to the man who hired me.

But what the hell did I know about fashion? I had spent the previous five years in Louisiana dealing with bookies, ambulance chasing lawyers and colorful state legislators. In my mind, the outfit was the most suave clothing in my tacky wardrobe. Anyway, besides developing a taste for fashion in Louisiana, I learned about dirty politics—even becoming a participant.

In early sobriety in 1971, while trying to get my financial house in order, I committed  to paying bill collectors a certain amount of money each month. A few months later, I was $300.00 short of meeting the obligations. Not very much money, although it then seemed like thousands to me. At the very moment I sat pondering my dilemma, a political consultant friend called and asked me to do a television spot on behalf of a fringe gubernatorial candidate named Puggy Moity.

As was the custom in those days, political groups secretly underwrote the campaigns of straw men, who acted as attack dogs on behalf of candidates. The target in this instance was Edwin Edwards—running for the first of four terms he served as Governor. I had never done a political commercial, nor have I done one since. But the consultant, the late Brooks Read, made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He would pay me $300.00 to do the spot. I considered it an early miracle of my sobriety. As I recall, it was a 30 second ad that attacked Edwards for his frequent gambling junkets to Las Vegas.

Cheap shots have a long history in politics. Thomas Jefferson was attacked for his alleged affairs with slaves. And during the ensuing years, nearly every presidential candidate has withstood withering criticisms based on truth, half-truths, rumors and outright lies. Hence, I take in stride contemporary attacks that I know have no basis in fact. It’s our tradition.

Fifteen years ago, I learned first hand how vicious politics can be. As CNN’s designated muckraker covering the debacle called, Whitewater, I was a front row witness to abuses by the office of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr. He and his minions aided and abetted the Republican Party in an effort to bring down Bill Clinton.

Before my right-wing friends and relatives get their bowels in an uproar, let me add that I have also been an eyewitness to the rhetoric of the left. I covered the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago and the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami Beach. Those were the hippie years. And although our minds eye image is of young anti-war demonstrators marching against Vietnam, it was older and more extreme left-wingers, who gave a voice to the protestors.  

In 1968, establishment Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey narrowly lost in an election that was influenced by a backlash from television images showing out-of-control demonstrators in Chicago. And responding to the left in 1972, Democrats nominated George McGovern. He was soundly defeated by Richard Nixon by a margin equal to that of the John Birch Society’s favored candidate—Barry Goldwater. He was crushed in 1964 by Lyndon Baines Johnson. If there is a lesson in all this, it is that people who scream the loudest don’t have much influence on elections. At least not in a positive way. Nonetheless, journalists—especially cable news—give them more coverage than they deserve.

No doubt, many of screamers of the 1960’s and seventies are now involved in the Tea Party movement. That’s what makes the country great. Not only do they have the right to march and protest, they also have the freedom to change their minds and jump from far-left to far-right.

From my perspective, dirty politics is good clean fun.

Yesterday’s blog post, The First Black Whatever,  really pinched a few nerves. I’m not surprised. Race is one of the most sensitive subjects in America. And perhaps the most important. The portion of my post that stirred the kettle was a suggestion of subtle and sometimes overt racism exhibited by a lot of folks involved in the Tea Party movement. I was accused of race-baiting in comments that ranged from “Democrats do it” to “What difference does it make the color they (the tea partiers) are?” Indeed, there were even Google searches of Tea Party demonstrations to find a black face in the sea of white and prove me wrong. Sure enough, one was found.

Let me be clear, I don’t know shit about what it is like to be an African-American in this country, which is the case with most so-called enlightened white liberals. One has to be black, to live black and have the experiences of blacks to understand what it is like. Over the years, I’ve had opportunities to learn just a little bit about the black experience. Most recently, I attended a six week Racial Dialogue workshop in Baton Rouge. It taught me again how much I don’t know. Learning anything requires willingness. The point of my essays is to share experiences have made me the person Readers who don’t care can tune out, or take me to task when they disagree. I have thick skin and a sense of humor that allows me to laugh while standing at fresh graves.

Excerpts from Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger provides insight into the early lessons I learned about race and I pass my perceptions along free of charge. Apologies about my repetiveness to those who read the book.

Like a majority of native born Southerners, I grew up in a family that used the “N” word. My parents denied being bigots. They just wanted “blacks to stay in their place.” I have a lasting memory of daddy’s reaction following my encounter with baseball star, Jackie Robinson.

I was thirteen years old and working as “roof boy” for the minor league Mobile Bears. The job entailed retrieving foul balls that landed on top of the grandstand. A screen at the rear of the roof prevented the balls from going into the parking lot. Before and after games, I ran errands for players and was paid fifty cents a night, plus tips, to watch baseball and spend time around professional athletes. It was great.

On trips north from Florida spring training in those days, major league teams played exhibitions against minor league farm clubs. The Bears were affiliated with the old Brooklyn Dodgers. And when the team bus arrived at Mobile’s Hartwell Field in 1949, I helped the Major League’s first black player carry his equipment bag to the clubhouse. Daddy was not impressed. “Hey, Marie,” he called to mother. “Come and listen to Johnny brag about carrying a nigger’s suitcase.”  It was supposed to be a joke―a symptom of culturally ingrained Southern prejudices. In dad’s defense, when I took up the civil rights banner years later, he bragged to friends about my support of the cause.

It is important to know that in later years my dad was later willing to re-consider ever so slightly the racial attitudes that were part of his upbringing. To me, that is a key to gaining knowledge and growing spiritually. Yes, I said spiritual. Read the New Testament. 

As I wrote yesterday, the only radio station willing to hire me after I plugged the jug in 1971 was Baton Rouge’s black programmed station, WXOK. Before getting fired by the city’s most prestigious station for being a drunk I was a talk show host for three years—a liberal voice of sorts during a time of racial discord in Louisiana. I thought I knew some stuff.  After all, I was the first airman in my barracks on Okinawa in 1954 to choose a black roommate. But after listening to African-American guests on my talk show, I began to recognize that I knew so litte about the black experience.

It didn’t take me long at WXOK to realize that my “enlightened” understanding of discrimination was superficial at best. I had never been the victim of blatant bigotry. Nor had I experienced the humiliation of being turned away from a segregated school, public facility, or denied a job because of my skin color. Working at WXOK taught me lessons that I could only learn in predominately African-American surroundings.

But despite a self-proclaimed empathy for those deprived of the American dream, I was a phony. My outsized ego had been severely damaged by the tumble from News Director, ace reporter and talk show host at Baton Rouge’s leading radio station to my job as WXOK’s token white boy. Instead of feeling gratitude for a career reprieve, I began fabricating an excuse for my presence at the station. I would tell former colleagues that the job was an assertion of my commitment to civil rights―foisting myself off as a self-sacrificing Peace Corps journalist.

The opportunity to promulgate the fiction presented itself at an NAACP news conference. For the first time since my failed attempt to succeed as a skid row bum, I was about to come face-to-face with reporters I had avoided since my day of reckoning. The prospect of seeing them at a Baton Rouge hotel was so unnerving that I sat in the parking lot for several minutes summoning up the courage to go inside. Entering the lobby, I immediately ran into Louisiana’s United Press bureau chief, Charles Layton. He greeted me with a smile and a handshake.

“Where have you been, John?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you for awhile.” My answer was so stunning I thought it was the voice of another person. “WJBO fired me for being a drunk,” I blurted out. “I’m working at WXOK, trying to get things back together.”

Had I actually made this humbling admission to someone? I could not believe my own words. Charlie took the sting out of my confession. “That’s great. I knew you were having problems. I hope things work out.” It was no big deal to him. Like most other reporters, he knew about my drinking. 

So there it is—a combination of claiming to have knowledge of the black experience, fooling myself into believing I understood racism from the perspective of African-Americans, and a dose of attempted hypocrisy in trying to conceal my embarrassment I felt of being relegated to an all black environment—even though ten months at WXOK saved my career and very possibly, my life.

I admit my shortcomings when it comes to underlying prejudices. But I continue to have a willingness to acknowledge my ignorance. It is a step toward brotherhood.

Am I hokey, or what?

This past weekend, the New York Times Magazine did a feature story on the Reverend James Fields—a black preacher and retired state employee, who was elected in 2008 to the Alabama legislature. He represents Cullman County, in which only 401 of the 81,000 registered voters are African-American. Fields falls into the well known category of “the first ever.” In his case, the first black to win a county-wide election in Cullman.

The election is significant. As late as the 1970’s, the town of Cullman was among the infamous southern communities where signs were posted at the city limits by the KKK and other racists groups warning, “Nigger, don’t let the sun go down.” Ironically, Cullman has another distinctive first that is quite the opposite of the road sign and parallels the breakthrough of Fields.

Sixty years ago, then Governor (Big) Jim Folsum—a Cullman resident—was the first southern governor to explicitly voice support for racial integration. Other governors like Louisiana’s Long brothers, Huey and Earl, were moderately supportive of blacks. But they kept their views quiet. This was not the case with Big Jim. In his 1949 Christmas Day address, he stated, ”As long as the Negroes are held down by deprivation and lack of opportunity, the other poor people will be held down alongside them.”

It was a radical statement given the time and mood of Alabama. I’m well aware of the ingrained racism that existed in the state since it is where I spent most of my childhood and adolescence. I grew up hearing the “n” word. The only thing I recall about Cullman, other than it being the hometown of Jim Folsum, is that on trips through north Alabama, my parents usually planned to eat at a steakhouse in the town that was well-known throughout the state.

Governor Folsum politically survived his break with Dixie racism. He was reelected after a one term absence from office as required then by state law. A quarter of a century after Big Jim’s death, the election of James Fields creates a bit of symmetry for Cullman.

Reading the Times article brought back memories of more than forty years ago when I was a radio talk show host in Baton Rouge and regularly introduced “the first black ever.” Among the guests was New Orleans political figure Ernest (Dutch) Morial. In 1967, he was the first African-American elected to the Louisiana House of Representatives since post-Civil War Reconstruction. After leaving the legislature, he became the first black juvenile court judge and then the first black Mayor of New Orleans. His son, Marc, followed in Dutch’s footsteps. He was the city’s Mayor for eight years.

Fried chicken entrpreneur Joe Delpit broke the racial barrier in Baton Rouge in 1969, becoming the city’s first African-American councilman. He was later elected to the Louisiana legislature and became Speaker Pro Tem, then the highest state government position of any black since reconstruction. In many respects, Joe Delpit paved the way for present Baton Rouge Mayor, Kip Holden, again a first ever African-American elected to the office.

Kip and I have our own “first ever” symmetry. Many years ago, he followed in my footsteps as a news reporter at WXOK radio, Baton Rouge’s only black programmed station. I was the ”first ever” fulltime white on-air newsman. In fact, WXOK saved my career. After a failed skid row audition in 1971, the station hired me to set-up its news department.  No other radio station in Louisiana was willing to take a chance on me because of my reputation as a drunk. But during my ten month tenure at WXOK, I stopped drinking. It has been 39 years and I’m still counting.

Anyway, four decades-plus have rolled by since my “first black ever” talk shows. And it seems to me that the  term, “first ever” in reference to African-Americans, should have been retired by now—especially with the election of a black President. It was a leap forward that many of us could not envision in the 1960’s and early seventies.

Even so, progress in race relations remains gradual. Sometimes when it seems that giant steps forward are being made, there are reminders that racism is still alive, but in more subtle forms. Indeed, groups that are not so subtle have found refuge in Tea Party organizations that have been recently established around the country.

Watching the tea partiers at protest demonstrations and other gatherings, I can’t help but wonder, “Why are there no black faces in the crowd? None, zilch.”

Are the tea partiers and other white-only protest groups a true face of America? It’s worth pondering.

The First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution gives us freedom of speech and press to express opinions, thoughts and complaints. As an investigative reporter for thirty years, I had the freedom to practice my craft without fear of government intervention—although there were two occasions in which the judiciary unsuccessfully attempted to infringe on my freedom by issuing prior restraining order. The first involved a Boston area murder case and the second related to the Miami trial of a Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega. In both instances my exposés accused prosecutors of misconduct.

I would never dream of depriving Fox “News” of its First Amendment protections. My only complaint is the network’s use of the word “News.” Pure and simple, Fox is a propaganda arm of the Republican Party and several far-right groups that the GOP tries—though not very hard—to disavow. 

My characterization of Fox is not an opinion based on idle speculation. The portrayal is based on, among other other things, an admission by a top network executive of an agenda that is politically motivated. Following the election of Barack Obama, Fox “News” Vice President Bill Sheet described the network’s role as “the voice of opposition.”  This has turned out to be an honest appraisal. 

By fulfilling role as the “the voice of opposition,” Fox “News” loses its credibility as a legitimate journalism organization. The network’s slogan of “fair and balanced” is now even more laughable than when first adopted. In an effort to exploit the fears of viewers caught up in bad economic times, Fox has distorted Obama’s positions on nearly every public policy issue he supports, or piece of legislation sponsored by Democrats. 

Distortions of the health care bill are particularly egregious. The network has warned viewers of death panels and granny euthanizations  designed to reduce medical costs. Relying on the scare tactic, “socialized medicine,” Fox consistently warns of dire consequences caused by huge health care deficits—a claim disputed by the independent Congressional Budget Office. 

The Fox campaign of misinformation has paid of in the form of ratings, and in terms of effectiveness. A study by the non-partisan Pew Research Institute found that Fox viewers were much more vulnerable than others in survey to believing lies about health care legislation.

If the distortions were limited to pundits like toe-sucking Roger Morris, and personalities like Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly, I would have no reason to complain about Fox’s claim of being a “news” network. But reporting propaganda as fact is part of the network’s daily newscasts. A disproportionate number of so-called experts interviewed by anchors and reporters are, in fact, spokespersons for the GOP and far-right conservative organizations, some of which border on sheer lunacy. Ann Coulter for example. Her idiotic comments usually go unchallenged. By the same token, more liberal and/or reasonable guests are bombarded with loaded questions that often have no basis in truth.  

Propagandizing under the guise of ”news” was exemplified a few months ago when by a Fox correspondent’s “fair and balanced” report that was in reality a verbatim Republican news release. Then there was the video of a Fox producer acting as a cheerleader by encouraging a crowd of “tea partiers” to yell and scream for the benefit of cameras. And also let us not forget the two recent intentional uses of manufactured video that misrepresented the size of a crowd attending a Fox-promoted political rally, and a few days later exaggerated the number of people standing in a bookstore line to purchase Sarah Palin’s ghost-written autobiography. The gaffes prompted network apologies—a rarity since Fox never acknowledges just how low its brand of journalism can sink.So why do I give a shit? In part, my criticisms are an extension of my disgust with television “news” in general—network and local. CNN, MSNBC and the three broadcast networks are all guilty of journalistic misconduct, though none can match Fox. 

My career as a fulltime television investigative reporter overlapped the Watergate scandal. In its aftermath, TV journalists began establishing a degree of legitimacy. That, of course, was before the advent of “news doctors”—the consultants who created “Eyewitless News” various formats.  As an under-educated ex-drunk who staggered into muckraking, my deep-rooted insecurities caused me to obsess about being considered a “real” journalist, instead of a guy perceived as a television airhead. To that end, I put a high premium on truth—the sole purpose of investigative reporting. Therefore, it offends me to see distortions, misrepresentations of fact and outright lies represented as “news.” That said, I keep in mind that the Constitution’s protection of freedom of press and speech is not contingent upon journalistic integrity.  

Still I find it disturbing that Fox lacks a conscience. I’m not alone in the belief that the netrwork’s abuses have contributed to the sharp political divide that exists in the country today. Fox’s influence is evident by the number of people I hear parroting misinformation proselytized by the network. And nothing I or anyone else can say will change their minds. 

The good “news” from my standpoint is that Fox gives me something to bitch about in my blog on regular basis. And that is fun.

Forrest Gump’s momma told him, “Stupid is as stupid does.” The momma’s of politicians, pundits, talk show personalities and an array of activists should have warned them that, “Stupid is also as stupid speaks.” 

 Take for example, Iowa Republican Representative Steve King. He told a  audience last weekend that he “could empathize” with the crazy man who crashed an airplane into an IRS office building in Austin, Texas. The Congressman’s comment came during a panel discussion at the annual convention of CPAC, a conservative activist group. When asked to clarify the stupid statement, he mumbled some mumbo-jumbo about being subjected to past tax audits, relating his own frustration to that of pilot, Joe Stack. I say keep Congressman King off airplanes. Greyhound buses cause less damage if crashed into buildings.

He—unlike the fictional character, Forrest Gump—does not display outward signs of mental deficiencies. Only when he opens his mouth is his stupidity exposed. Which is often. Stupidity by choice is what I call King’s condition. It has reached epidemic proportions in the country, as evidenced by the number of people  defending Joe Stack’s  terrorist act.

In large part, the wave of dim-wittedness is a result of intellectual laziness. Many folks are willing to let others think for them. Consequently, newspaper, magazine and book sales are down. And Fox “News”  viewership has increased, mainly because the network offers a venue for commentators who incite scared and angry people, who are caught up in a recession that has caused turmoil in their lives. 

My own reading and viewing habits are pretty eclectic. I subscribe to Time, Newsweek, U.S. News & Report, New Yorker, Sports Illustrated and the Baton Rouge Advocate. My day usually begins online with the New York Times, Washington Post, and Atlanta Constitution (I’m still a Braves fan). During the day, I periodically check the Drudge Report and Huffington Post, plus a few political and journalism websites. My daytime television consists of monitoring CNN (after all, the network contributed to my retirement account) and the Weather Channel. In the early evening, I channel surf the nightly news on the three broadcasts networks, as well as the local news channels. Then, it’s The Daily Report with Jon Stewart on Tivo, followed by The Colbert Report. On a strong stomach, I occasionally take a peek at Fox “News.”

Now you know. My name is John and I’m a news junkie. But it is the least of the addictions I’ve dealt with during an adventureous lifetime. Granted, my reading and viewing habits are weighted to the left. However, nobody can accuse me of being an elitist. As an ex-drunk Alabama redneck raised in the housing projects of Mobile, it’s a wonder that I don’t have a white sheet with eye holes stored in the closet. Fortunately, though, my political views were formed while reporting from the frontlines of wars on poverty, racism and a variety of societal problems.

Far too many commentators and pundits—on the left and the right—have little or no experience as eyewitnesses to issues they report and opinionate about. I mean, what the hell does a former sports commentator like Keith Olberman know about government and politics?  How do ex-disc jockeys and bartenders become experts on public affairs? The don’t. They are hustlers selling various brands of stupidity. And people buy the opinions by choice.

Glenn Beck certainly recognizes the potential of selling stupidity. He is an expert in marketing dim-witted theories about government and its failures. And although he  admits being nothing more than a ”rodeo clown,”  fans believe he is only being modest—that the college drop-out is truly brilliant based on years of training as a disc jockey. Indeed, Beck was the keynote speaker at the aforementioned CPAC convention. Go figure. Still, he impressed the audience by disclosing that he possessed a public library card, the source of his great wisdom and wit.

I shouldn’t beat up on Glenn since we have much in common. I’m also a college drop-out, or more accurately, a fail-out. I wanted to become a disc jockey, but my record-spinning dream was sidetracked at  a tiny radio station where I stumbled into the news business. Glenn and I are both recovering alcoholics, making me wonder if he believes half of what he says.

An essential principle of staying sober is self-honesty, especially in the context of Twelve Step programs. He credits AA with helping him plug the jug, as well as dealing with a nose problem. With his double-digit years of sobriety, I conclude that he does not engage in self-deception. If that’s the case, Glenn is truly a b.s. artist, who exploits unhappy folks pre-disposed to believing he is real. Stupidity is their choice as opposed to thinking.

In today’s uncertain political, cultural and economic environment, Glenn Beck is a beneficiary of the Forrest Gump Syndrome on two fronts. He takes advantage of stupidity by choice. And like Forrest, Glenn succeeded by arriving at the perfect time and place to pluck chocolates from Mrs. Gump’s proverbial box of suprises.

The Washington Post reported this week that three highly respected investigative journalists—one of whom is a longtime good friend—were hired by the Church of Scientology to review stories published in the St. Petersburg Times.  The newspaper has long been a thorn in the side of the cult-like church, even winning a Pulitizer three decades ago for its Scientology exposés. My knee-jerk reaction was to trash the three reporters for acting as hired guns on behalf of the controversial organization.

But contempt before investigation is an inherent danger of journalism among reporters, who are under the influence of toxic cynicism. And I was falling into the that trap, even though my knowledge of  Scientology is only slightly above zilch. I’ve read stories about the weirdness of the so-called religion and some of its worshipers, or what ever the hell they are called. Listening to Tom Cruise babble about Scientology is enough to re-enforce my sense of bafflement abut what the church stands for. 

“A civilization without insanity, without criminals and without war, where the able can prosper and honest beings can have rights, and where man is free to rise to greater heights, are the aims of Scientology.”

That is the goal of the church as outlined by L. Ron Hubbard—science fiction author and founder of Scientology. Obviously, the movement has failed to achieve its aims. Instead, it has been at the center of controversy for years. Scientology was stripped of its “church’” designation by the Internal Revenue Service, but still qualifies as a tax exempt not-for-profit organization. Over the years, it has been target of criminal investigations, members have been convicted of illegal activities, scores of lawsuits have been litigated, and reporters and critics claim to have been harrassed and threatened by Scientologists.

Based on past history, my negative reaction to top journalists cashing Scientology pay checks in advance of an investigation of the St. Petersburg Times stories is understandable. How could they? A stupid question since I haven’t a clue about the substance, quality and reliability of the newspaper’s exposés. The team hired by Scientology may have ascertained that the stories completely accurate. If so, the corroboration may never see the light of day. My understanding is the review has been completed and turned over to the church, which has no obligation to make it public.

Two veteran reporters—Pulitizer Prize winner, Russell Carollo, and former 60 Minutes producer, Christopher Szechenyi, an Emmy-winner—conducted the study. My longtime friend, Steve Weinberg, was hired by Carollo and Szechenyi to edit the final report. He is a prize-winning author and the former Executive Director of the 3000 member professional organization,  Investigative Reporters and Editors (IRE). As a matter of personal disclosure, I was a member of IRE’s Board of Directors several years ago. And I have a great deal of respect for Steve and his judgment. 

Having said that, let me add a couple of words about the propriety of  mainstream journalists working for organizations of ill repute. Why not?  Investigative reporters frequently enter into unholy alliances. My close relationship with notorious drug smuggler Barry Seal is still being criticized more than two decades after his assassination by a Colombian hit team. Despite the criticism, I’m confident that I maintained my journalistic integrity in dealings with Seal, as well as with scoundrel sources in other stories I reported.

What is wrong with targets of investigations hiring journalists to vet the reporting of other newsmen? Nothing. At least as far as I’m concerned.  The news media is not, and should not, be exempt from scrutiny. Any story that can’t stand up under intense examination should never be reported in print or on television in the first place. 

During 30 years of digging dirt, the truth and accuracy of many of my stories were challenged by targets of the exposés, in lawsuits and by a lot of people with axes to grind. Fortunately, I never lost a libel case. Nor did I have to retract any allegations made in my stories. This is not a claim of perfection. In retrospect, my spin on some stories could have been different. But that is more a reflection of my changing attitudes toward certain types of non-criminal misconduct. Everybody makes bad decisions.

Investigative reporting is an imperfect craft. Mistakes happen.And errors should be immediately corrected. Much of my book, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is devoted to exposing egregious inaccuracies that were never corrected by mainstream news organizations like the New York Times, Washington Post and CBS News. 

The St. Petersburg Times refused to cooperate with the reporters scrutinizing its Scientology stories. Editors claim the study will be used to discredit the newspaper. Executive Editor Neil Brown is quoted in the Washington Post as saying, “Candidly, I was surprised and disappointed that journalists who I understand to have an extensive background in investigative reporting would think it’s appropriate to ask me or our news organization to talk about (our) reporting while (a) it’s ongoing, and (b) while they’re being paid to ask these questions by the very subjects of our reporting.” 

If there is ongoing reporting of a confidential nature, I can understand Brown’s objection. But if previously published stories are accurate, they should be fair game for scrutiny, regardless of who is paying the freight. Supposedly, there is a safeguard that prohibits the Church of Scientology from quoting the study out of context. Steve Weinberg says the contract requires the church publish the study in full, if it decides to make it public at all. 

So what’s the big deal about paying Weinberg, et al? Fox News pays pundits big bucks to tell lies. It’s okay with me if bona fide reporters are paid to tell the truth. And I hope the truth is that the St. Petersburg Times has kicked ass in an honorable fashion.