Crossing The Rubin Con On Romney

Oh, Jennifer Rubin.  You really are a terrible hack, and why the Kaplan machine keeps inflicting you upon the populace, I’ll never know.

Romney as the nominee will be flyspecked and criticized over every word. He needs to avoid actual gaffes. But he can’t keep the media from editing out all the inconvenient parts of every sentence, paragraph and interview. He’ll need to work on talking directly to voters, making his case in ads and debates. The good news for him, at least in the primary, is that the media that are predisposed to pounce on every (other) word and offer the most negative interpretation of his every statement and performance appear to have zero influence among voters. Perhaps a less crazed approach to covering Romney would restore their credibility.

To recap, the woman that used her position at the Washington Post to push silly Holocaust denial garbage, who “apologized” for blaming last year’s deadly terrorist shooting in Norway on Muslims before the information was in by saying Muslims are all terrorists anyway (and this after howling that the Left jumped to conclusions on the Giffords shooting), who accused the President of losing the war in Iraq the second he agreed to send our troops home and called the move the “worst error” of his presidency, barely pulled up from fully accusing the President of being an anti-Semite, and who has enough strikes against her to, in a sane world, never have been hired at the Post in the first place, is now worried about the journalistic credibility of “the anti-Romney right” and “the anti-Romney left.”  Effing really?


Jennifer Rubin probably deserves to have a dump truck full of her “credibility” deposited on her front lawn.  It’s a level of sheer, overwhelming absurdity that would drive Beckett and Pinter to sit around in their underwear all day reading Lolcats and drinking moonshine because they couldn’t deal with trying to process it.   The woman has credibility the same way a moldered cinder block in a New jersey landfill has a fascinating appreciation of the political ramifications of the Dutch Tulip Bubble.  Why is she still employed other than to give every other journalist in the country a reference point of just how awful they can be without being fired?

That she’s hitched her wagon to the Least Interesting Man In The World is significant in ways I could only apparently try to grasp if I were actively killing brain cells with alcohol and laughing at pictures of kittens conquering cardboard boxes in a manner befitting Alexander the Great.