Walter Cronkite Was Highly Overrated

First Michael Jackson and now this. A little over a week ago, I was captive in a local car repair shop for over two hours as one absurdity after the next dribbled out from the non-stop television coverage of Michael Jackson's funeral. A phalanx of commentators paused to reflect solemnly on Jackson's manifold contributions to the world of pedophilia–er, I mean, to the world of pop culture.

 

It is possible, I'm told, for a kind-hearted person to experience pity when contemplating the wreck that was Michael Jackson's life. But could anyone really take him seriously as an cultural figure? (His place as a cultural symptom raises a different question.) I found nausea competed heartily with irritation as the assembled news casters marshaled superlative after superlative to describe the career of someone whose entire life was a monument to voracious commercial exploitation, on the one hand, and artistic nullity fired by unstopped narcissism, on the other. [UPDATE: But I think there is a lot to be said for this Michael Jackson.]

 

Now, apparently, we are going to be treated to the same cloacal cataract of sentimentality about Walter Cronkite. One had to have a heart of stone, said Oscar Wilde, and not laugh at Dickens' account of the death of “Little Nell.” Similarly, one has to have a cast iron stomach to withstand the adulation accumulating around the name of Walter Cronkite in the aftermath of his death at 92 last week. “Hero, role model, friend” ran a typical headline. Almost all of the scores, nay, hundreds of stories about Cronkite that have appeared in the last few days solemnly cite a poll that denominated that homely, mustachioed news reader “The most trusted man in America.” Was he? By whom was he trusted?

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