Barack Obama and the Media-Gone-Wild Promise of Passport-gate: A Short History of Buffoonery

Although no one yet knows anything of any verifiable substance -- especially the haplessly in-charge Condoleezza Rice, which naturally is just par for the course -- Barack Obama really needed this.

Thank you, oh "-gate" giving gods, for in all your mysterious playfulness we see that you do indeed giveth what you taketh away. And these days really quickly, too.

This is politics, so imagination and suspicion are happily permitted to substitute for material reality and facts. We watched this axiomatic sordidness unfold with splendid exactitude in the aftermath of the Rev. Wright fiasco -- 1) a "scandalous" story breaks ... 2) a thoughtful, convincing response is offered ... 3) the punditry crowd ensues with half-baked speculations and recriminations about number two, not one. We can rest assured, I trust, that irresponsible network jabber will dominate now, as much as before. It's only fair.

Like I said, this is politics, and that pretty much says it all.

When Watergate was in its infancy, the indefatigable services of two obscure but intrepid reporters were required to convince the big-boy media that some serious skulduggery was afoot. It's rather stunning now to think that after watching Dick Nixon in action for 30 criminal years that the media would have had to be prodded into investigative action, but in that era the nation was still clinging to its last, thin vestiges of innocence.

Surely the president of the United States wouldn't, couldn't be so dumb as to authorize or cover up a felony committed for utterly blockheaded gain. But he was.

And although the investigative subject material was about as serious as it then could get, only a few noticed that a burgeoning media circus was being conceived, and would soon be in need of regular feedings.

It began with some gravitas -- the nightly network coverage of an overseas crisis and then the 24-hour cable procreation of Carter-watch; he could do this, should do that, he didn't, end of presidency.

In his place -- no surprise -- a slick, photogenic, media-indulgent political entertainer. Before long, we were down to tailing a serious but horny senator in his quest to replace said entertainer, and not long after that our current-events education derived almost exclusively from other bimbo eruptions and the occasional, unsubstantiated financial scandal.

A big and booming business was here to stay -- the obsessive, profitable feeding of the unenlightened masses with heaps-more unenlightenment.

In our unaware darkness we never stopped to consider, for example, that the private and not entirely uncommon act of adulterous fellatio could alter if not end the course of Western civilization, but by golly it could, it just could. All we needed, as good citizens, was the proper news and information and truckloads of partisan, talking-head humbug.

We were not disappointed. "They" were happy to oblige, because this puppy needed feeding. It was the stuff that future political careers were made of, as well as craven cable-network saturation, network-correspondent face time, and scads of speculation-peddling opportunities for otherwise idle commentators.

By the time a monumental issue of actual Western civilization-altering concern rolled around -- you remember, that little unprovoked war we launched in the world's most volatile region -- it just wasn't sexy or squalid or scandalous enough to merit our full attention. Besides, it was all so damn ... complicated. Dry, objective, straightforward network analyses wouldn't do, because those are so damn ... unprofitable.

Fast forward to the present. Is he black enough or too black? Is he a secret Muslim? Does he hold hand over heart? Does he wear a flag pin? Was he sitting in the pews? Is he, in short, as gullible as we are?

Now that's news, and rightly the kind of crapola we can base our presidential preferences on.

There's only one antidote for the political victim and only one balancing act performable by the media: any other shrill speculation about any other possible scandal will do nicely as a tiring-scandal substitute. Odds are, Condi Rice's operation was merely performing as incompetently as always, but let us jump to every other possible conclusion first. That's far more entertaining.

So for the next 48 hours, sit back and enjoy. And watch for any sign of Barack Obama folding his hands in prayer, for that's a surefire indication that he's thanking God for these little tidbits of counterbalancing media hysteria that determine our national leadership. We're too shallow not to love them, as well as too shallow to grasp the authentic reasons behind his candidacy.

Maybe we'll just stumble our way into salvation.