[img]1|left|Ari Noonan ||no_popup[/img]When the City Editor of the Los Angeles Times needs an attack dog, he whistles for Round Robin Abcarian, who bellows a familiar response about her hair being in curlers, and she lumbers across the room.
As an early member of the indiscriminate Journalistic Whores for Obama group, Round learned how to blow up an ant by firing a cannon a between his dirty, conniving crossed eyes.
As they say in slaughterhouses, “Overkill is our specialty.”
Drawing upon Round’s expansive knowledge of the rodent world, the City Editor deploys her when conservatives are to be savaged, which is daily at 2nd and Spring.
Her assignment was so simple Round grasped it by the second explanation:
To humiliate a novel campaign by two pro-life groups in Georgia who say that black women undergo a disproportionately high number of abortions because they are targeted.
Baby, this was red meat for an abortion advocate such as Round. As far as we can tell, the unique concept of journalistic fairness never has penetrated Round’s mind.
I never have heard of such a narrow, specific campaign being launched by pro-life organizations. That could justify bringing the story to the cover.
Never mind that a far more compelling hometown story has been floating for days only to be thumbed aside by the Times, the vanished Poway high school girl. Bet the farm, pal, that at the Times, a chance to savage conservatives — what is known as a policy story — always will trump news, one of the reasons the Times continues to shrink.
As often occurs, The New York Times broke the story — in last Saturday’s edition, just as lopsidedly on Page 1 — and the Los Angeles Times, its me-too kid brother, came along days later with its own attack script.
Although Round’s writings were more genteel in her Daily News days, ladylike, fang-baring has become her style at the Times. She seems to write a lot of stories, masquerading as news reports, about all of the ideological people on the planet she disagrees with.
By the third sentence of this morning’s Page 1 story, she was unblushingly offering her (negative) opinion of the campaign. By the fourth sentence, she felt sufficiently empowered to start using anti-campaign code language.
Swinging both elbows as if she were dashing through a crowd of bulging old ladies en route to a slightly-used-underwear discount counter, Round was hitting her stride by sentence 9.
At that early point, Round impatiently began firing her rebuttal, her Aren’t They Idiots? arguments.
Mockery seems to be her strength.
Nearing full speed by the 6th paragraph of a badly overblown 33-paragraph story, Round has the first of her handy-dandy props in place:
A black woman who belittles the campaign theme in Roundian tones. Imagine that. My golly.
Two paragraphs later, Round shifts to the godfather of the campaign, predictably portraying him as a low life.
After slamming him for three paragraphs, that sly Round finds still another black woman — yeah for our side — who stunningly says she concurs with Round that the godfather is a borderline nincompoop.
Even when quoting campaign persons, she manages — within the quoting sentences — to mock them.
Always finish with a kick, right?
Generously threading her easily exposed thesis with code words favorable to her side, Round devotes 11 of the last 12 paragraphs to a stout defense of her own views and a crude, undisguised belittling of the campaign.
A pity that Round’s mother did not believe in abortion as ardently as her daughter.
