(Screencapture: London Times Online, Front Page, March 5, 2010)
Little Rupert Murdoch, the Joey Goebbels of international media, is a very old man with a tiny penis and lots of money (Okay; I'm not sure about the tiny penis part, but it would make sense, nicht wahr?). This story isn't actually about him, but may as well be.
Through his company, News Corporation, Little Rupert owns huge chunks of the major media markets in Britain and Australia. And, of course America, where Fox is the helpful propaganda arm of the American Right (including the GOP, though White Power Militias hear their message on occasion, too). It's also home to the lesser lights of that world, like O'Reilly, or Beck, or -- well, pretty much the entire Fox 'News' staff.
It's a fair point that whatever media Little Rupert has purchased, he's turned into a propaganda outlet for the Right, and lowered the reporting and content standards of whatever he's bought (a 2006 documentary, Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch's War On Journalism, covers this in detail). The only newspaper exceptions were the Sun in Britain, and the New York Post, both of which had been one step above the 'National Enquirer' level before The Ruper nipped them.
Rupert feeds his readers and viewers with lowest-common denominator material (propaganda disguised as 'news and analysis', and entertainment that's little more than T & A). Where he doesn't do this entirely is in his two "business" newspapers, the London Times, and the newly-purchased Wall Street Journal -- Little Rupert hires solid writers and analysts for the finance sections, leaving Right-wing commentary on economic events in Britain or America to the editorial or "news" pages... but, both those papers had always been Right-leaning, so no one noticed.
NY Post: American Flags, And T&A: Rupert Thinks We're Idiots
The Ruper relies on a business model for mass sales of a product; the more you sell, the more money you make: Simple. But it also relies on the notion that the people who consume his products don't deserve anything better, are too stupid to understand anything else; or worse, should be told what to think.
It's also a fair point that media owners, past or present, have frequently treated their readers or viewers with condescension, or contempt. And, that they've influenced the editorial positions of their newspaper or teevee empires to match their own political beliefs.
In that, Little Rupert is no different... except that in 2010, seven corporations control the majority of the planet's television stations, cable outlets and newspapers; an unprecedented situation.
Little Rupert's News Corporation is the largest of these players. He reaches more humans with the content of his company's media than any other -- far more, when you consider most people in Europe and America watch content from multiple sources.
The funny twist in all this is that, in answer to many of his critics, Little Rupert's response could be summed up as Look, Mate; I'm just a businessman -- that he's really not a political propagandist. Or, he is ... but only because he decided there was a buck to be made pushing Rightist assholery, and to develop that market so that even more money could be made.
If Hitler were still alive, Little Rupert might very well
give him a 30-minute slot ("Sure, it's controversial, but
let's see what he does with it. Ya know, he Looks a little
like Walter Cronkite?")
Funny; that's the same logic and perspective as the BSD's on Wall Street, in explaining why they broke the country, and the international banking system, too: Just tryin' to make a living here, folks...
If Joey Goebbels Had Been Born Later, He'd Be Little Rupert --
Seen Here With Trophy Wife (Photo: BBC/Getty Images)
So, The Ruper owns the London Times. Founded on New Years' Day, 1785, it was considered the newspaper of England, embodying both the snobbery and presumed intellectual erudition of that nation's Upper Class. It's editorial line generally supported Tory (and later, Conservative) party positions.
At the same time, it's writers developed what was the international standard in journalism for generations -- many of it's conventions (personal advertising; crossword puzzles; the Sunday special edition) were adopted by competitors, and its masthead was as much a recognizable symbol of England as John Bull, Big Ben and the measured voices of BBC radio announcers reporting the Blitz.
In 1981, when the then-owners of the paper were suffering under debt and wage demands of a British Printers Union at the height of its power, Little Rupert was the only potential bidder with cash; he stepped in and scooped it up.
Aussies don't like those Pommy Bastards very much. The Limeys shoved their great-great-great grandfathers out to live with Funnel Spiders and 'Roos, then let their great-grandfathers die at the utter balls-up which was Galipoli. Buying a real, solid symbol of Great Britain like the Times must have been one, sweet moment for a crafty Digger like Little Rupert.
Princess Anne, Sister To Queen Elizabeth II, Reviews The Proud
Lads Of Australia's Swim Team In a 1980's Visit To God's Own Earth
The Times, in keeping up with technology, has an online presence which effectively mirrors the print version of the paper. Today's front-page story is a hard-hitting and penetrating story you can see in the first image of this post: It's about the nipples of Carla Bruni, First Lady of France, wife of French President Nicholas Sarkozi.
It seems that Ms. Bruni attended a State Dinner at the Elysee Palace this past Tuesday night; as Salon's Kate Harding reported,
Based on photos of Bruni in a form-fitting but full-coverage Roland Mouret gown ... Times writers Hannah Betts and Sarah Vine have (A) determined that she is not wearing a bra and (B) offered a helpful point-counterpoint on whether she should be slut-shamed for it.
And, Oh! the British can be counted upon to weigh in on such a moment, with an opinion steeped in equal parts Language Of The Bard and Churchill's brandy.
Our culture is obsessed with heaving, blancmangey cleavage [the Times article noted], but the erect nipple is a far more potent yet insouciant sexual signifier. The pert pap winningly protrudes between the sluttish and the demure: contained arousal, clothed incitement; an invitation more beguiling for being a whisper rather than a shout.
Oh, well done! Such brave and definitive British reportage; we particularly like the tonal play involved ("far more potent yet insouciant") -- all the more so because this is a piece allegedly written by a grown-up professional journalist, you see; and in the Times, no less. So, there's a certain frisson of irony gilding these lines. Clearly, the writer has presented us with one of the finest public displays of the fruits of a Third-place, Redbrick University degree. Bravo!
Well... There's a lot going on in the world which desperately needs to be reported on -- and reported accurately, free of the kind of political cant which Little Rupert likes to drizzle over whatever he buys.
If you want to bite into what Rupert has to sell, fine; don't blame anyone but yourself if it tastes like you're sucking Joseph Goebbels' underwear.
Humanity is desperate for fact and truth -- and all that the editors this pathetic old man owns can do is focus on a French woman's nipples, and claim that being able to see them is a focus for serious debate.
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