Internal Memo: Keith Olbermann

Finally, tonight, a special comment on the accurately described “campaign contributions.” I have lived as if in a trance. I have lived as a person in fear. And it is now that I truly inherit the legacy of my American ancestors. In these days of fright I have been only human. I have listened to that little voice inside that said this too shall pass. O little voice, you spoke so much more than you know, good sir. As I drink from that befouled spring from which all my liberties flow, habeas corpus, I can only be glad that my suspension from television lasted four days and only two weeknights, three thousand three hundred and thirteen days fewer than we have kept as enemy combatants at Guantánamo Bay individuals denied even a drop to drink from that befouled wellspring.

I handed a series of checks, drawn against my own freedom, for a total of $2,400, to the campaigns of Representatives Raúl M. Grijalva and Gabrielle Giffords of Arizona and Attorney General Jack Conway of Kentucky, a loser, for the most vital, for the most necessary, for the most quintessential of reasons. I handed a series of checks, drawn against my own freedom, for a total of $2,400, to candidates of a party whose ideas and arguments I already, along with the band of mental dwarves I employ, jam down America’s throat every night. I handed a series of checks, drawn against my own freedom, to candidates of a party so ineffectual, so incompetent, so confused morally and intellectually that it squandered its electoral mandate and handed over our Congress to a gaggle of morons. I handed a series of checks, drawn against my own freedom, to candidates of a party with its battery plugged in backwards, its shoes on the wrong feet and its underwear wrapped around its head, like a turban.

With the distance of history, the questions will be narrowed and few. Who paid what to whom? And why? And how? Cui bono? A man who sees absolutes where all other men see nuances and meanings is either a prophet or a quack. Keith Olbermann is not a prophet. Sadly, we have no Winston Churchills among us this evening. We have only hypocrites. We have only Keith Olbermanns. Mr. Olbermann, you are a clear and present danger to journalism in this nation. You have become, Mr. Olbermann, the very thing you sought to create in the minds you nightly stoked and inflamed, a partisan demagogue and a flunky. In short, an activist. Writing those checks was irresistible to you. You were like a drug addict waiting for the next fix. This was your higher calling. God forgive you, Mr. Olbermann. You are, I am, the worst person in the world.

Internal Memo: Keith Olbermann