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“Summer lovin’, had me a blast…Summer lovin”, happened so fast…”
Roughly 30 years after the movie “Grease” hit the silver screen, the lyrics from one of its songs have renewed meaning. This Summer Americans are witness to a great romance between the parrot press and Barry Obama.
(I began this post last night and today I was listening to the podcast of yesterday’s Laura Ingraham Show, during which they beat me to the punch and played a snippet of “Summer Lovin’.” So I will include a portion of another appropriate song.)
“If lovin’ you is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.”
There is little risk of the amore stricken media ever being “right.” “Journalists” from all forms of traditional media seem to be experiencing something similar to the “tingle” that runs up Spitball’s Chris Mathews’ leg at the sound of Barry Obama’s melodious (or is it malodorous?) voice. It must be love if so many reporters can view this man as an inspirational and eloquent speaker. They say love is blind, but it must also be deaf because unless he isn’t reading a prepared speech, the media’s Messiah can’t seem to string three words together. Not to mention the fact that he is completely disassociated from the truth or reality and it doesn’t seem to register with the fawning, eyelash batting reporters.
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