The Say Anything blog spots the HuffPo in classic high dudgeon mode:
My, my, my.
In what is without a doubt the best foot stomping, squealing, hold-your-breath-until-you-turn-purple fit I’ve seen in quite some time, and it’s all because Sarah Palin had the gall to write an op-ed and that the Washington Post had the nerve to publish it. But to set the record straight someone named Art Brodsky, a writer at the Huffington Post is letting us know that, gosh darnit, Sarah Palin just doesn’t have the right to publish that opinion piece in the Washington Post.
Here are just some of the samples of his hissy fit:
It’s not simply that no one who saw her last two press conferences about her quitting Alaska for the bright lights of the Lower 48 believes she actually wrote the piece. Ghost-writing is a fine established art. Few politicians do their own writing.
It’s quite another to believe that she actually knows or cares sufficiently about cap-and-trade and environmental legislation to care enough to write about it for a major newspaper. And even if she does, what possible justification on Earth is there for the Post publishing her?
Oh, I see. She’s just too stupid to have written the piece herself in the first place. And anyway, so what if she did? How dare the Post publish it! The nerve! How could she possibly know anything about politics? It gets better:
She has no authority to write an article like this and the Post has no business running one.
So, you need some kind of “authority” to express your opinion? I did not know that. Thanks.
So in other words, at the HuffPo, they disapprove of what you say, and will defend to the death your right not to say it.
Related: In the New York Times, Judith Warner lets her own special case of PDS get the better of her:
“[Sarah Palin] is the 21st-century face of the backlash against women’s progress. . . . The hatred of women . . . is still alive and well in our society, and when directed at well-educated women, it’s socially acceptable, too.”
In contrast to writing an op-ed for the Times in which the author admits that she dreams of showering with a then-newly inaugurated president, which is the very definition of progress, one assumes.