Helen Thomas has the same look my Grandma Nelsie had. Not mean or scolding, mind you, but a look that saw right threw my scams, shams and flimflams. Like the time I was only five or so and my baby kitten had crapped in the corner. If my mama had been there, then I could have got her to clean it up for me. But Grandma Nelsie didn't give a hoot about me acting poor, pitiful and powerless. All she said was for me to stop acting like a baby and get it over with.
That's when I pulled the nuclear option to avoid cleaning up that pungent pile of poop. If nothing else worked, I had learned with my mama that I could play sick. "But, grandma," I said, "I'm allergic to it." Without a trace of malice, Grandma Nelsie looked me straight in the eyes and said "son, everybody is allergic to cat sh*t." Grandma Nelsie so motivated me that I was prompt in trying to train the cat how to use and flush the toilet.
Thomas has that same penetrating look in her eyes. She's not going to fall for any old line. But not only does she remind me of Sofia, the archetypal matriarch of wisdom, Thomas also reminds me of Moses.
Many people know facts. Or, they know at least some, even if they won't report them. Thomas knows wisdom, intimately. She knows how to speak the truth without beating around the bush. Or without worshiping the Bush, I might add. Then again, she's not going to cut any authority figure, Democrat or Republican, undue slack. Thomas knows that her role as a reporter is sacred to democracy. She's like an umpire who has to call them as she sees them, regardless of who's pitching the spin.
My daddy the populist preacher used to love Helen Thomas. He used to rhetorically ask why none of the other reporters had enough gumption to ask the kind of questions Thomas asked. My daddy thought that most reporters were in cahoots with the rich and powerful and didn't ask them questions that might be embarrassing. But he loved Thomas because she asked the questions that needed to be asked. My daddy would have loved to read Thomas' new book and hear all her insights about how the press has really failed us. He'd love to know that Thomas also thinks that greed has played a corrupting role on the press. My daddy would have said that Mammon had bought them off. Thomas' book lends credence.
Anyway, if all my wishes come true on father's day, my deceased father and Thomas will meet up some day in the great beyond. Then, on that day of judgment, if all my dreams were to come true, God will be on a throne deciding who stays in grace and who literally falls from it. God will call forth all the presidents, politicians, press secretaries, pundits and pampered press poodles for one final press conference from which they cannot hide. One deception and they are dropped like a hot potato.
Once all the powerful are in place, God will then say:
"All of you, being such fine, honest, upright devotees of mine will remember that in Proverbs it was recorded that I first made Sofia, or wisdom, before making anything else in creation. That was because Sofia helped make sure everything was right and nothing went wrong. Sofia has often cried out, her voice ringing from the hills down to the marketplace, calling out for people to stop deceiving, to start telling the truth and for people to start thinking for themselves. Yet you politicians wouldn't stop slinging the golden bull. You attacked the messengers. You bought off the press. You lied and people died and cried. It's time to come clean."
Then God will smile and announce that it is time for Sofia to step forth and proceed with the presidents and the rest:
"All right, Helen Thomas, you go first. You've got all the time you could ever possibly want to ask all the questions you need to get to the bottom of it all. And, Miss Helen, ask your questions until they drop."
Tags: Helen Thomas, Watchdogs of Democracy?, Mainstream Media, Book Review, Media, Mammon, Humor, Satire, Sofia, George W. Bush, Democracy
