You could see it. Dana Bash struggled to ask questions she didn’t want to ask, because she knew that even the easiest question would tax the dim-witted woman Bash and her employer were committed to promoting. You could see the discomfort on her face. There may yet be a spark down there, deep inside, screaming at her betrayal of what she imagined her career would be.
Bash: How do you explain your apparent change of position on [name an issue; she’s changed them all]?
Harris: “My position/feelings/values have not changed,” despite her positions having changed completely on essentially everything.
I thought Dana Bash actually looked pained knowing that she was prostituting her professional reputation, whatever is left of it, in service to such a stunning mediocrity. No follow-ups, no “but you said” responses, nothing that would justify one calling oneself a journalist. No evidence at all that she wasn’t on the DNC payroll.
Did Bash think to herself, I am throwing away the dregs of my integrity for you, and I’m so much better than that? Or did she just smile, and think of CNN?
Keeping a woman of Harris’ resounding incompetence afloat must necessarily drown countless others. In some ways, the worst thing about this fraud of a campaign is that it demands so much from those who sacrifice their integrity in order to throw Harris the softballs that are absolutely essential to her survival, softballs that Harris nonetheless whiffs with embarrassing consistency, whiffs with the lack of self-awareness that only truly stupid people can pull off with confidence.
She is a joke of a candidate, a ludicrous mistake. Trump is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them.
She could still win: Our press is that bad. But she will win only if the press drags her lying ass across the finish line, its collective hand placed firmly over her mouth, whispering, “Just shut up” every step of the way.
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