Tell me lies

In a compendium of lefty journalistic over-reach, the newly released book "Tell me lies" presents an amusing display of essays that the moonbat crowd will use their unquestioning and predictable mental filter to draw its' own message from. Keith Windshuttle in the New Criterion does a thorough fisking of Robert Fisk himself - who Windshuttle says is madly in love with leftism is enamoured an anachronism: the aristocratic trappings of the arabism of centuries ago, and displays a penchant for looking at people as wogs in need of Euro-guidance. Shown too for what he is, is the unctuous John Pilger as are several others.

The starkest though is the illusion Fisk has that he's merely reporting. Its belied by a profession that places by-lines at the top, not the bottom, and will uncritically trumpet any anti-western thought provided that it supports his self-promotion and hefty speakers fees for years to come.

Note Fisks adoration of bin Laden, which takes the form of a sort of T.E. Lawrence treatment:

«Osama Bin Laden sat in his gold fringed robe, guarded by loyal Arab mujahedin With his high cheekbones, narrow eyes and long brown robe, Mr Bin Laden looks every inch the mountain warrior of mujahedin legend. Chadored children danced in front of him, preachers acknowledged his wisdom. »

or the promotion of his own "mind penetrating radar" which leapt to these conclusion mere hours after the Trade Center and Pentagon attacks:

«Still, Fisks contacts with the Arab militants have allowed him to be sometimes perceptive. While on a transatlantic flight to the United States on the morning of September 11, 2001, he heard the news of the terrorist attacks on New York and immediately guessed correctly who was behind them.»