We are not big watchers of programmes on the telly (as my friends in the UK might say), but Mrs. RWP saw a video clip on Facebook this morning and called me over to watch it with her on our old desktop PC.
Here is 21-year-old Jahmene Douglas on August 18, 2012, auditioning for The X Factor UK, singing the song that made Etta James famous, “At Last” (7:37).
I've never been a huge fan of this particular style of singing, but this young man belts it out of the park. Somewhere, Etta James is smiling.
Apparently Jahmene has been singing for a little while. Here he is in April 2010 singing “His Eye Is On the Sparrow” (4:31).
Somewhere, Ethel Waters must be smiling too.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Albert Ross (and the Otters)
Many of you know that I travel occasionally to Georgia’s neighbor to the west, the great state of Alabama, to (a) visit my daughter’s family and (b) continue my search for banjos of mass destruction. It turns out that I have been looking in the wrong place. I should have been looking in Leeds, Yorkshire.
Here is some lovely folk music by Albert Ross and the Otters (5:39) that includes the long-sought-for but elusive banjo.
Albert’s Myspace page reveals the following:
“Albert Ross was raised in the dwindling limelight of the Working Mens’ Clubs of the North of England. One third of a trio comprising of his father and his drunken uncle, he earned his fish and chips and a tenner a show knocking out the standard club fare of classic sixties and seventies sing a longs. In-between sets, whilst the punters would feast on bingo and pork scratchings, the teenage Albert could be found in the dressing room, with the eyes of bygone clubland heroes staring down at him from their faded publicity shots plastered around the walls. Cradling his guitar and swigging from a bottle of Newcastle Brown he sat and began to breathe life into the songs that filled his head.
“What followed was a blur of excitement. A decade of rock and roll shows and drunken shenanigans. Festivals and third world holidays. Dead end day jobs and never ending nights of wild abandon. Short-term, long distance love affairs. Streets packed tight with people bursting full of life. Shooting stars. Whirling dervishes. Blinding lights. Bands came and bands went. Bands re-formed and shifted shape. Players lived and died and told tales of dreams that came true and dreams that didn’t. It was a time of only good intention. A time to gather.
“Albert knew full well that if he’d learned anything from those wilderness years then that was how to write songs that reached out and hit people on a personal level. Songs that left the listener convinced they’d been written just for them. Songs that ached. Songs of love and loneliness. Songs that begged to be written. He knew too that to breathe life into such songs would require something out of the ordinary. A band of players both graceful and mighty. And so the Otters were born. Where, when and how remains a mystery but what was immediately clear from the very first gathering of tribe was that forces beyond our understanding were at work. Something new was in the air.
“They found a home and searched their souls for bigger and better ways to evolve. They took to the road and found many friends, but most importantly of all they put the songs at the heart of their quest. Now, as the days go by Albert Ross and the Otters continue to gather pace and are indeed in full swing. Wooing audiences across the country and winning fans the world wide.”
For more information, Albert Ross can be contacted at albertrossandtheotters@yahoo.co.uk
Any similarity between this post and a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge is purely coincidental.
Here is some lovely folk music by Albert Ross and the Otters (5:39) that includes the long-sought-for but elusive banjo.
Albert’s Myspace page reveals the following:
“Albert Ross was raised in the dwindling limelight of the Working Mens’ Clubs of the North of England. One third of a trio comprising of his father and his drunken uncle, he earned his fish and chips and a tenner a show knocking out the standard club fare of classic sixties and seventies sing a longs. In-between sets, whilst the punters would feast on bingo and pork scratchings, the teenage Albert could be found in the dressing room, with the eyes of bygone clubland heroes staring down at him from their faded publicity shots plastered around the walls. Cradling his guitar and swigging from a bottle of Newcastle Brown he sat and began to breathe life into the songs that filled his head.
“What followed was a blur of excitement. A decade of rock and roll shows and drunken shenanigans. Festivals and third world holidays. Dead end day jobs and never ending nights of wild abandon. Short-term, long distance love affairs. Streets packed tight with people bursting full of life. Shooting stars. Whirling dervishes. Blinding lights. Bands came and bands went. Bands re-formed and shifted shape. Players lived and died and told tales of dreams that came true and dreams that didn’t. It was a time of only good intention. A time to gather.
“Albert knew full well that if he’d learned anything from those wilderness years then that was how to write songs that reached out and hit people on a personal level. Songs that left the listener convinced they’d been written just for them. Songs that ached. Songs of love and loneliness. Songs that begged to be written. He knew too that to breathe life into such songs would require something out of the ordinary. A band of players both graceful and mighty. And so the Otters were born. Where, when and how remains a mystery but what was immediately clear from the very first gathering of tribe was that forces beyond our understanding were at work. Something new was in the air.
“They found a home and searched their souls for bigger and better ways to evolve. They took to the road and found many friends, but most importantly of all they put the songs at the heart of their quest. Now, as the days go by Albert Ross and the Otters continue to gather pace and are indeed in full swing. Wooing audiences across the country and winning fans the world wide.”
For more information, Albert Ross can be contacted at albertrossandtheotters@yahoo.co.uk
Any similarity between this post and a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge is purely coincidental.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Commander of the nightingale indeed!
My online friend Shooting Parrots who lives in Lancashire over in jolly olde Englande has been having of late what he calls “my temporary obsession with Abdul Abulbul Ameer”; it all started a few days ago when he wrote a post about a man named Percy French for Round Eleven of ABC Wednesday. So far he has made three posts about it (Shooting Parrots I mean, not Percy French). The last one includes an entire 1941 Disney cartoon that Parrots says has been banned because it is not politically correct.
Never one to let a subjectdrop go unexplored, I thought I would join in the fun by showing you this thoroughly delightful clip of "Abdul Abulbul Ameer" performed by Brendan O’Dowda (3:11).
There now, wasn’t that, er, thoroughly delightful?
I do have one slight correction, however.
People have been getting the title wrong for years. It isn’t “Abdul Abulbul Ameer” and it isn’t “Abdul (The Bulbul Ameer)” either, even though that’s what appears on some sheet music shown at the end of the Brendan O’Dowda clip.
I suppose it could be “The Bulbul” but that is not what Brendan seems to be saying if you watch his mouth closely. In addition, Abulbul does not translate into anything in either Arabic or Persian. Trust me. I tried, using my favorite online translator, Google Translate.
It is therefore my carefully thought-out and considered opinion that the title now and forevermore and even retroactively should be changed to either “Abdul (A Bulbul Ameer)” or “Abdullah, Bulbul Ameer)” and I’ll tell you why.
The word Abulbul does not translate into either Arabic or Persian. I know. I tried. I think I told you that already.
However, Abdullah Bulbul Ameer translates into Arabic as
عبد الله أمير بلبل and into Persian as عبدالله بلبل امیر.
Here are some other fascinating details for your perusal:
Both Abdul and Abdullah are boys’ names commonly used in that part of the world. One famous Abdullah (1882--1951) was emir of Transjordan (1921--46) and first king of Jordan (1946--51). He joined the Arab revolt against Turkish rule in World War I and was assassinated 1951. Another famous Abdullah is Abdullah II, the current king of Jordan. And still another is the current king of Saudi Arabia, Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz. French’s poem was written too early to refer to any of them.
Dictionary definitions include:
bul·bul [bool-bool] noun
1. a songbird often mentioned in Persian poetry, regarded as being a nightingale.
2. any of several oscine birds of the family Pycnonotidae, of the Old World tropics.
a·mir [uh-meer] noun, emir (Also, emeer, amir, ameer.) Origin: 1615–25; from Arabic amīr, commander
e·mir [uh-meer, ey-meer] noun
1. a chieftain, prince, commander, or head of state in some Islamic countries.
2. a title of honor of the descendants of Muhammad.
3. (initial capital letter) the former title of the ruler of Afghanistan.
4. a title of certain Turkish officials.
One dictionary said this:
emir -- 1595, from Fr. emir, colloquial pronunciation of Arabic amir “commander” (see admiral).
Yes. You read that correctly. See admiral.
ad·mi·ral Origin: 1175–1225; Middle English, variant of amira from Old French, from Arabic amīr al, commander of the (as in amīr al-mu’minīn, commander of the faithful)
To round out this interminable post, here is one version of William Percy French’s 1877 poem:
Abdulla Bulbul Ameer
1. The sons of the prophet
Were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far,
In the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
This son of the desert,
In battle aroused,
Could spit twenty men on his spear.
A terrible creature,
Both sober and soused
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
2. If you wanted a man
To encourage the van,
Or to harass the foe from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt,
You had only to shout
For Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
There are heroes aplenty
And men known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar;
But the bravest of these
Was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
3. He could imitate Irving,
Play euchre and pool
And perform on the Spanish Guitar.
In fact, quite the cream
Of the Muscovite team
Was Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
The ladies all loved him,
His rivals were few;
He could drink them all under the bar.
As gallant or tank,
There was no one to rank
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
4. One day this bold Russian
Had shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer
Downtown he did go,
Where he trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
“Young man” quoth Bulbul,
“Has life grown so dull,
That you’re anxious to end your career?
Vile infidel! Know,
You have trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”
5. “So take your last look
At the sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar;
By this I imply
You are going to die,
Mr. Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.”
Quoth Ivan, “My friend,
Your remarks, in the end,
Will avail you but little, I fear,
For you ne’er will survive
To repeat them alive,
Mr. Abdulla Bulbul Ameer!”
6. Then this bold mameluke
Drew his trusty chibouque
With a cry of “Allah Akbar!”
And with murderous intent,
He ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
Then they parried and thrust
And they side-stepped and cussed
Till their blood would have filled a great pot.
The philologist blokes,
Who seldom crack jokes,
Say hash was first made on that spot.
7. They fought all that night,
’neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar;
And great multitudes came,
So great was the fame
Of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.
As Abdul’s long knife
Was extracting the life --
In fact, he was shouting “Huzzah!”
He felt himself struck
By that wily Kalmuck,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
8. The sultan drove by
In his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer;
But he only drew nigh
To hear the last sigh
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
Czar Petrovich, too,
In his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car.
He arrived just in time
To exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
9. A loud-sounding splash
From the Danube was heard
Resounding o’er meadows afar;
It came from the sack
Fitting close to the back
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
There’s a tomb rises up
Where the blue Danube flows;
Engraved there in characters clear;
“Ah stranger, when passing,
Please pray for the soul
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”
10. A Muscovite maiden
Her lone vigil keeps,
Neath the light of the pale polar star;
And the name that she murmurs
As oft as she weeps
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
The sons of the prophet
Were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far,
In the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
Other than the facts that in some versions "Black Sea" replaces "Danube" and Abdul is not a diminuitive of Abdullah, I have nothing else to add.
The best way to celebrate having waded through the entire poem is to listen one more time to Brendan O’Dowda’s thoroughly delightful performance.
Class is now dismissed. Before our next class, you should read "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
In your spare time, of course.
Yours for precision in lyrics, I remain...
Rhymes W. Plague, Esq.
Never one to let a subject
There now, wasn’t that, er, thoroughly delightful?
I do have one slight correction, however.
People have been getting the title wrong for years. It isn’t “Abdul Abulbul Ameer” and it isn’t “Abdul (The Bulbul Ameer)” either, even though that’s what appears on some sheet music shown at the end of the Brendan O’Dowda clip.
I suppose it could be “The Bulbul” but that is not what Brendan seems to be saying if you watch his mouth closely. In addition, Abulbul does not translate into anything in either Arabic or Persian. Trust me. I tried, using my favorite online translator, Google Translate.
It is therefore my carefully thought-out and considered opinion that the title now and forevermore and even retroactively should be changed to either “Abdul (A Bulbul Ameer)” or “Abdullah, Bulbul Ameer)” and I’ll tell you why.
The word Abulbul does not translate into either Arabic or Persian. I know. I tried. I think I told you that already.
However, Abdullah Bulbul Ameer translates into Arabic as
عبد الله أمير بلبل and into Persian as عبدالله بلبل امیر.
Here are some other fascinating details for your perusal:
Both Abdul and Abdullah are boys’ names commonly used in that part of the world. One famous Abdullah (1882--1951) was emir of Transjordan (1921--46) and first king of Jordan (1946--51). He joined the Arab revolt against Turkish rule in World War I and was assassinated 1951. Another famous Abdullah is Abdullah II, the current king of Jordan. And still another is the current king of Saudi Arabia, Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz. French’s poem was written too early to refer to any of them.
Dictionary definitions include:
bul·bul [bool-bool] noun
1. a songbird often mentioned in Persian poetry, regarded as being a nightingale.
2. any of several oscine birds of the family Pycnonotidae, of the Old World tropics.
a·mir [uh-meer] noun, emir (Also, emeer, amir, ameer.) Origin: 1615–25; from Arabic amīr, commander
e·mir [uh-meer, ey-meer] noun
1. a chieftain, prince, commander, or head of state in some Islamic countries.
2. a title of honor of the descendants of Muhammad.
3. (initial capital letter) the former title of the ruler of Afghanistan.
4. a title of certain Turkish officials.
One dictionary said this:
emir -- 1595, from Fr. emir, colloquial pronunciation of Arabic amir “commander” (see admiral).
Yes. You read that correctly. See admiral.
ad·mi·ral Origin: 1175–1225; Middle English, variant of amira from Old French, from Arabic amīr al, commander of the (as in amīr al-mu’minīn, commander of the faithful)
To round out this interminable post, here is one version of William Percy French’s 1877 poem:
Abdulla Bulbul Ameer
1. The sons of the prophet
Were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far,
In the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
This son of the desert,
In battle aroused,
Could spit twenty men on his spear.
A terrible creature,
Both sober and soused
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
2. If you wanted a man
To encourage the van,
Or to harass the foe from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt,
You had only to shout
For Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
There are heroes aplenty
And men known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar;
But the bravest of these
Was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
3. He could imitate Irving,
Play euchre and pool
And perform on the Spanish Guitar.
In fact, quite the cream
Of the Muscovite team
Was Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
The ladies all loved him,
His rivals were few;
He could drink them all under the bar.
As gallant or tank,
There was no one to rank
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
4. One day this bold Russian
Had shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer
Downtown he did go,
Where he trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
“Young man” quoth Bulbul,
“Has life grown so dull,
That you’re anxious to end your career?
Vile infidel! Know,
You have trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”
5. “So take your last look
At the sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar;
By this I imply
You are going to die,
Mr. Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.”
Quoth Ivan, “My friend,
Your remarks, in the end,
Will avail you but little, I fear,
For you ne’er will survive
To repeat them alive,
Mr. Abdulla Bulbul Ameer!”
6. Then this bold mameluke
Drew his trusty chibouque
With a cry of “Allah Akbar!”
And with murderous intent,
He ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
Then they parried and thrust
And they side-stepped and cussed
Till their blood would have filled a great pot.
The philologist blokes,
Who seldom crack jokes,
Say hash was first made on that spot.
7. They fought all that night,
’neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar;
And great multitudes came,
So great was the fame
Of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.
As Abdul’s long knife
Was extracting the life --
In fact, he was shouting “Huzzah!”
He felt himself struck
By that wily Kalmuck,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
8. The sultan drove by
In his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer;
But he only drew nigh
To hear the last sigh
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
Czar Petrovich, too,
In his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car.
He arrived just in time
To exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
9. A loud-sounding splash
From the Danube was heard
Resounding o’er meadows afar;
It came from the sack
Fitting close to the back
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
There’s a tomb rises up
Where the blue Danube flows;
Engraved there in characters clear;
“Ah stranger, when passing,
Please pray for the soul
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”
10. A Muscovite maiden
Her lone vigil keeps,
Neath the light of the pale polar star;
And the name that she murmurs
As oft as she weeps
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.
The sons of the prophet
Were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far,
In the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.
Other than the facts that in some versions "Black Sea" replaces "Danube" and Abdul is not a diminuitive of Abdullah, I have nothing else to add.
The best way to celebrate having waded through the entire poem is to listen one more time to Brendan O’Dowda’s thoroughly delightful performance.
Class is now dismissed. Before our next class, you should read "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
In your spare time, of course.
Yours for precision in lyrics, I remain...
Rhymes W. Plague, Esq.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
And now for something less controversial
...here’s Shirley Temple singing “On the Good Ship Lollipop” (2:34) from the 1934 movie Bright Eyes.
And here she is again, this time with the verse included, and the black-and-white original has been changed into a colorized (Brit., colorised) version (3:31).
Without looking it up, can you name the actor on whose lap Shirley was sitting? He was fairly well known and in 1945 earned an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
And here, for no reason whatsoever, are Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz on What’s My Line? in 1955 (7:42).
Nobody ever said my posts had to make a lick of sense.
This has been a little trip down memory lane.
And here she is again, this time with the verse included, and the black-and-white original has been changed into a colorized (Brit., colorised) version (3:31).
Without looking it up, can you name the actor on whose lap Shirley was sitting? He was fairly well known and in 1945 earned an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
And here, for no reason whatsoever, are Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz on What’s My Line? in 1955 (7:42).
Nobody ever said my posts had to make a lick of sense.
This has been a little trip down memory lane.
Friday, August 24, 2012
The most important 18 minutes since the gap in President Nixon’s Watergate tapes
...just might be a talk given in Orlando last September by lawyer Anita Moncrief, a former liberal and the whistleblower in the ACORN scandal. She shared some very interesting information:
Anita Moncrief’s very interesting information -- Part One (9:14)
Anita Moncrief’s very interesting information -- Part Two (9:53)
If you have been asleep, people, it is time to wake up.
P.S. -- For those who are wondering, I do know how to add, and I realize that Ms. Moncrief’s very interesting talk is actually a little over 19 minutes long when you include the seconds. I chose to ignore the seconds so that this post -- did I mention that it contains some very interesting information? -- could have a very interesting title.
Anita Moncrief’s very interesting information -- Part One (9:14)
Anita Moncrief’s very interesting information -- Part Two (9:53)
If you have been asleep, people, it is time to wake up.
P.S. -- For those who are wondering, I do know how to add, and I realize that Ms. Moncrief’s very interesting talk is actually a little over 19 minutes long when you include the seconds. I chose to ignore the seconds so that this post -- did I mention that it contains some very interesting information? -- could have a very interesting title.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
As the election draws near
...every American voter and certain residents of Sheffield, Yorkshire, England in the U.K. ought to read this article by Niall Ferguson in this week’s Newsweek magazine.
Since you’re here, why don’t you read it too? (It’s a little on the long side -- five pages -- but worth the look.)
You might learn something.
Since you’re here, why don’t you read it too? (It’s a little on the long side -- five pages -- but worth the look.)
You might learn something.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Lies, damned lies, and presidential campaigns
In July, a blog called Human Events ran the following headline:
WASSERMAN SCHULTZ: SURE, ROMNEY COULD BE A ‘FELON’
Here’s the article that followed the headline.
For those who never click on links, Debbie Wasserman Schultz represents Florida's 20th Congressional District (Fort Lauderdale and environs) in Washington and she is also the Chair[person] of the Democratic National Committee. A few days later, Ms. Schults went on MSNBC and repeated the charge on nationwide television.
To be fair, she was being asked to comment about a statement made in a conference call the previous week by Stephanie Cutter, deputy campaign manager for President Barack Obama’s 2012 reelection campaign.. Ms. Cutter had said, “Either Mitt Romney, through his own words and his own signature, was misrepresenting his position at Bain to the SEC, which is a felony, [or he wasn't].” Wasserman Schultz basically attempted to validate what Cutter had said, repeating the accusation for a national television audience.
These two women are not a couple of nobodies out in the hinterland; they are high priestesses in the campaign to get President Obama re-elected.
Fast forward to the present (today, August 20, 2012) and watch this exchange between reporter Nancy Cordes of CBS and President Obama at a news conference.
Again, for the link-challenged, here is a transcript:
Nancy Cordes, CBS: As you know, your opponent recently accused you of waging a campaign filled with anger and hate. You told Entertainment Tonight that anyone who attends your rallies can see that they are not angry or hate-filled affairs. But in recent weeks, your campaign has suggested repeatedly -- without proof -- that Mr. Romney might be hiding something in his tax returns. They have suggested that Mr. Romney might be a felon for the way that he handed over power of Bain Capital. And your campaign and the White House have declined to condemn an ad by one of your top supporters that links Mr. Romney to a woman’s death from cancer. Are you comfortable with the tone being set with your campaign? Have you asked them to change their tone when it comes to defining Mr. Romney?
President Obama: Well, first of all, I am not sure that all of those characterizations that you laid out there were accurate. For example, nobody accused Mr. Romney of being a felon. And, I think that what is absolutely true is if you watch me on the campaign trail, here’s what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how to put Americans back to work.
(End of transcript)
As the Psalmist said, Selah (Hebrew: pause and consider).
The point being, I suppose, that when you tell (or imply) a lie, sometimes you have to tell another lie to cover up the first lie.
To my mind, this is akin to saying, on the one hand, “Mother Teresa could be a common whore” or, on the other, “Princess Diana never referred to Camilla Parker-Bowles as The Rottweiler.” [Editor’s note. As far as I know, no one has ever said such things. --RWP]
It also demonstrates that as long as enough people (a) aren’t really paying attention and (b) believe anything they hear, anything is possible.
Stay tuned.
WASSERMAN SCHULTZ: SURE, ROMNEY COULD BE A ‘FELON’
Here’s the article that followed the headline.
For those who never click on links, Debbie Wasserman Schultz represents Florida's 20th Congressional District (Fort Lauderdale and environs) in Washington and she is also the Chair[person] of the Democratic National Committee. A few days later, Ms. Schults went on MSNBC and repeated the charge on nationwide television.
To be fair, she was being asked to comment about a statement made in a conference call the previous week by Stephanie Cutter, deputy campaign manager for President Barack Obama’s 2012 reelection campaign.. Ms. Cutter had said, “Either Mitt Romney, through his own words and his own signature, was misrepresenting his position at Bain to the SEC, which is a felony, [or he wasn't].” Wasserman Schultz basically attempted to validate what Cutter had said, repeating the accusation for a national television audience.
These two women are not a couple of nobodies out in the hinterland; they are high priestesses in the campaign to get President Obama re-elected.
Fast forward to the present (today, August 20, 2012) and watch this exchange between reporter Nancy Cordes of CBS and President Obama at a news conference.
Again, for the link-challenged, here is a transcript:
Nancy Cordes, CBS: As you know, your opponent recently accused you of waging a campaign filled with anger and hate. You told Entertainment Tonight that anyone who attends your rallies can see that they are not angry or hate-filled affairs. But in recent weeks, your campaign has suggested repeatedly -- without proof -- that Mr. Romney might be hiding something in his tax returns. They have suggested that Mr. Romney might be a felon for the way that he handed over power of Bain Capital. And your campaign and the White House have declined to condemn an ad by one of your top supporters that links Mr. Romney to a woman’s death from cancer. Are you comfortable with the tone being set with your campaign? Have you asked them to change their tone when it comes to defining Mr. Romney?
President Obama: Well, first of all, I am not sure that all of those characterizations that you laid out there were accurate. For example, nobody accused Mr. Romney of being a felon. And, I think that what is absolutely true is if you watch me on the campaign trail, here’s what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how to put Americans back to work.
(End of transcript)
As the Psalmist said, Selah (Hebrew: pause and consider).
The point being, I suppose, that when you tell (or imply) a lie, sometimes you have to tell another lie to cover up the first lie.
To my mind, this is akin to saying, on the one hand, “Mother Teresa could be a common whore” or, on the other, “Princess Diana never referred to Camilla Parker-Bowles as The Rottweiler.” [Editor’s note. As far as I know, no one has ever said such things. --RWP]
It also demonstrates that as long as enough people (a) aren’t really paying attention and (b) believe anything they hear, anything is possible.
Stay tuned.
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