Sunday, July 17, 2011

Shifting Fortunes: Be Careful How You Treat People on the Way Up ...

I was telling Joel this morning that Barry Ritholtz tops the most-read stats on my Google reader--"uncomplicated, no bullshit, ornery," I gushed.  And then in a horrified afterthought, "or did I just describe Bill O'Reilly."

Prompting Joel to wonder:

What will Bill O'Reilly be like when Fox folds and he goes to work for PBS or NPR. Like David Frum?
Ooh, that's harsh. I remember Stalin's nightmare that he is in Hell where Quakers feed him cocoa and read him tracts.

BTW count me as one who is not much impressed by all the clucking about an implosion in Murdochiana. My guess is that vaporizing the NOW just paves the way for a Sun on Sunday, and engineering (sic) the arrest of Rebecca Brooks just immunizes her from a parliamentary inquiry.

How could I be wrong? I could be wrong if Rupert has, in truth, at last grown old and outlived his natural mojo--without having passed any of the mojo genes to the kinder. Be careful how you treat people on the way up, old man: you may meet them on the way down.

... Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked aloud,
'Clarence is come -- false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury:
Seize on him, Furies, take him unto torment!'
With that (methoughts) a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howl├Ęd in mine ears
Such hideous cries that with the very noise
I, trembling, waked, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream.

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