A photographer won a Pulitzer for a snap he took during the Malibu fire. It showed flames leaping in the background and a fireman dipping his head in a backyard pool. When it was discovered the photographer had suggested the pose, he was stripped of the prize and the shit hit the fan throughout the other major papers. They assigned me to help mitigate the public outrage that would surely follow.
We received one letter. From the same guy who wrote every Monday with a catalog of our previous week's grammatical errors.
The media are never so fascinated and frantic as when it's one of their own.
Like when the roughing up of Anderson Cooper stole the headline from the Egyptian revolution. The molestation of the 60 Minutes reporter made the revolution disappear entirely.
I'd never heard of the News of the World, but by most accounts, it is, was, typical junk news. I'm shocked, shocked to know corruption has been going on in there.
And now, the breathless accounts of every bit of testimony and every apology, then the editorials and critiques on every bit of testimony and every apology.
"After listening to Rupert Murdoch today, would you say we learned anything we didn't know before?"
"No, what I find particularly interesting is that he didn't tell us anything new at all."
"And James Murdoch?"
"The astonishing fact is, there were no new revelations in his testimony, either."
"Thank you, Lisa."
"Thank you, Steve."
(By the way, the picture I saw of Rupert and his young wife reminded me of this.)