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Dana “I May Have No Friends Left” Milbank Lampoons Locals

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By Harry Jaffe

The Post columnist takes a close (and rather unflattering) look at "the archetypal Washington Man" in his latest book.

Milbank is a keen observer of capital life. Photograph by Matthew Worden

Once the book Homo Politicus hits the stores December 26, it might be wise for author Dana Milbank to check his food for poison should he dine with fellow journalists—or politicians or lobbyists.

His anthropological take on the “strange and scary tribes that run our government” makes light of many usual suspects such as Nancy Pelosi and Tom DeLay, Jack Abramoff and “Duke” Cunningham, but the Washington Post essayist also directs some deadly barbs at journalists.

“Here,” he writes, “the local chorus members, or choreutai in the Greek, call themselves journalists or reporters.”

Weekly Standard editor William Kristol is “choragus of a pro-Bush chorus,” whose cheerleading for the Iraq war “was reaching that of a Dionysian orgy.”

The choreutai are storytellers, but Milbank writes: “In Potomac Land, however, the vital tradition of storytelling is severely hobbled by Potomac Man’s inherent self-absorption.”

Milbank’s best specimen? Political analyst Mark Halperin, now with Time, whose online political Note for ABC News gave “the impression that the most important person in all Potomac Land was Halperin himself.”

Milbank’s dissection of Post icon Bob Woodward might delight most but infuriate a few—including Woodward.

Comments

that’s nice, Bob, but my question is, what about me? Why is it always about you?

Posted by: dana | Dec 27, 2007 02:35:06 PM

Dis Milbank person zounds like a fantastic writer. I vill pick up a copy of dis Homo Politicus und read it cover to cover before my vorkout.

Posted by: Arnold S. | Dec 27, 2007 06:29:23 AM

A navel-starer complains that all the others are navel-starers, too?

Posted by: Dave | Dec 19, 2007 05:15:26 PM

My take on Bob Woodward is seen in two verses I wrote at different time.

The Bob Woodward Story, Part I,
or How to Make a Sharp U-Turn

By Phil Linehan

Two young reporters, like all their kind,
yearned to escape their daily grind.
Keen they were, enthusiastic,
and prayed they’d clinch that scoop fantastic.

Little did they dream that fate
would lay before them Watergate,
and all the President’s men’s skullduggery
best described perhaps as thuggery.

Bob typified the dogged sleuth
who’d dig ‘til he unveiled the truth.
Investigation was his strength;
for a story he’d go any length.

He’d probe the White House fabrications,
delve into Nixon’s aberrations,
uncover every lie or prevarication
and expose a rotten administration.

So Bob and fellow newsman Carl
vowed Tricky Dicky to ensnarl.
Lucky for them a mole appeared
with a modus best described as weird.

He’d meet with Bob in a garage under ground
where his whispers did not make a sound.
He earned the nickname of Deep Throat
and he gave our Sherlock cause to gloat.

Bob and Carl gained widespread admiration
for what they did to save the nation.
They exemplified steadfast persistence
as they wore down editor Ben’s resistance.

So President Nixon was thrown out –
a mighty triumph without a doubt.
A task not easy to repeat
on a humble newsman’s normal beat.

New fields of effort they had to find
and leave their news desks far behind.
Carl’s modest ways stayed as of yore
while Bob’s huge ego was now a bore.

To young journalists he was quite the hero,
a role he took to like De Niro.
A real colossus he became,
a legend now of worldwide fame.

Made managing editor at the Post
he seemed to vanish like a ghost.
Now his by-line seldom would appear
and co-workers soon began to sneer.

They asked wherever could he be found
and why he was never seen around.
Eager hacks set out to trace him
and it did not take them long to place him.

He was seen as he left in a rush
from an office occupied by Bush.
The guy who hated presidents’ men
had now become just one of them.

The White House was in disrepair
as leaks oozed out from everywhere.
All around were phone call buggers
when what they needed were good pluggers.

George W. considered him a chum
and how could poor Robert not succumb?
He was handed info cherry-picked
and it dawned not on him he’d been tricked.

He played his cards close to his chest
and his editor did not keep abreast,
He was gathering all that he could muster
for inclusion in his next blockbuster.

He had once reported all the news
but now felt he could pick and choose.
He would decide which well-cooked brownie
to feed to editor Len Downie.

He appeared with awe-struck Larry King
who allowed him his own praise to sing.
His methods, once investigative,
had now become accommodative.

When asked if he felt any blame
for keeping mum on Valerie Plame
he denigrated the prosecutor
though some others called him a straight shooter.

There are many who have grown quite leery
as every word of his they query.
Why some still pay to hear him lecture
is only open to conjecture.

He no longer can be called a model
when all he says is now just twaddle.
But remember this, you who would berate him.
Bob’s still a reporter, though now verbatim.


The Bob Woodward Story, Part II,
or Bob’s State of Denial

By Phil Linehan

Quick, finish dinner! At the TV we must look
to hear Woodward plug his latest book.
It’s easy to learn Bob’s point of view
for he’s on the networks, and on cable too,

As we wait for his findings to be revealed
we hope that nothing will be concealed.
Will he throw any light on that odd love affair
between George Bush and Tony Blair?

When he sits face to face with 60 Minute’s Mike
it’s awesome how they are so alike.
It’s hard to decide whose demeanour is sternest
as they prepare to discuss the book in earnest

No levity here, no how are the folks?
But we are all aware it’s no time for jokes.
Have such austere expressions been seen before?
Indeed they have, on Mount Rushmore.

So we anxiously wait and with bated breath
for Bob’s disclosures, we hope in depth.
What will he tell us? What can we expect to learn?
What inside stories that might cause concern?

He addresses Wallace in ponderous tones
as on and on and on he drones
with that steady and unblinking gaze
and then pauses for Mike his words to praise.

As he gives all his phrases the self-same stress
it‘s not easy their importance for us to guess.
Could anyone ever consider terrific
a delivery best called soporific?

Once he decided his reporting role to abdicate,
Was when Woodward began to pontificate.
Now, should he find things get too hot at home,
he could always hop on a plane to Rome.

Newsweek says he knows how to excavate
but that claim leaves room for much debate.
We recall how he lauded Bush’s “moral determination”
leaving none in doubt of his open admiration.

But wait! What is reaching my disbelieving ears?
The sound of Bob as he again changes gears?
Can he really be saying that his erstwhile cronies
Are nothing more than a bunch of phonies?

He swears that Bush has been known to lie,
and says things in Iraq have gone awry.
So it’s obvious that he’s now jumping ship
and has learned how to do a pancake flip.

We’re mesmerised by his asseverations
and dumbstruck at his aberrations.
Is he telling us that he has seen the light
in the book that he took two years to write?

Alas! What he serves us is reheated hash
when what we expected was a hot news flash.
So what may we get when the Post’s straight shooter
again hits the keys of his laptop computer?

Will he tell us that tomorrow the sun will rise?
That Polaris is seen in Northern skies?
That Cheney’s is not the steadiest hand
when he picks up a gun while he’s still half canned?

Will he discover that Halliburton steals,
charging millions for non-existent meals?
Will he say Condi continues with her to’s and fro’s
the reason for which God only knows?

Will he warn us the CIA makes mistakes?
Or tell us Laura is good at baking cakes?
Will he say the Intelligence Service we cannot trust
or drop another such nugget to leave us nonplussed?

There is one question I feel I have to ask
and hope that I’ll not be taken to task.
While Rummy’s stuff may happen, or perhaps may not,
for how much longer must we endure Bob’s tommy rot?

As I wondered what became of the Bob I once admired,
and, like many, whose footsteps to follow had aspired,
I realized I’d overlooked a significant factor,
That the Bob I was thinking of -- is Redford, the actor!

Posted by: | Dec 19, 2007 11:45:18 AM

Who is this loser, and why should I care about what he has to say?

Posted by: Bob | Dec 18, 2007 11:49:46 AM

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