Open letter to Peggy Agar, haggish media whore
Peggy Agar, I’d like to talk to you about your recent actions and try and bring you back to reality. You work at a news show and consider yourself a real ‘journalist’, yet were so offended when Barack Obama called you a ‘sweetie’ that you turned it into a national news story in an attempt to, what? Discredit him?
First, let me point out that you are morbidly obese. This is not an insult (yet) nor is it important to his comments, although it is important to your reaction. I want to point out to you , because I care, that I don’t want to see anyone die, at least from something as common and boring as heart disease. Your poor little overworked heart is pumping away in that cavernous chest cavity day and night, trying to push a little blood into those pudgy extremities so you don’t get gangrene or stroke out. It needs all the help it can get, including but not limited to: stomach stapling, mild exercise and opting for salad instead of the Double Whopper Combo Meal. Getting upset enough to cause a national ‘controversy’ because someone used a term of endearment when speaking to you most certainly will not help. It’s just going to make that little plasma pump of yours kick into overdrive. You’ve only got so many weak, clenched spasms left before you need that impending transplant, honey, so make them count.
Second, I would like to explain something about most normal, sane and rational humans who spend a lot of time around or are raising children. We use specific terms and methods of speech with them. Sometimes we call other people by those terms, completely out of habit. Taking offense to this means you are either psychotic and eat… er, I mean hate children. Case in point: I constantly reprimand a certain, unnamed, preteen boy for his near constant mouthing off. I usually yell his name to get his attention and to let him know he is making me irate. This happens so consistently that it’s almost reflexive. Yesterday a rather immature and annoying bastard at work (we’re like twins) was mouthing off at me. I showed my disdain by completely yelling the wrong name at him, which was both amusing and rather telling of my relationship with the two of them. My point is that Barack has two young daughters. I can almost guarantee that he calls one or both of them ‘sweetie’. I could be completely wrong, but I assume that he’s used to using the term and uses it reflexively. This is, according to you and other lower life forms, disrespectful.
The term was ‘sweetie’, by the way. He didn’t call you Porky, Babe, Toots, Gal, Missy, Tits, Bitch, Hag or any of thousands of demeaning terms that could have come from the mouth of any person with a decent lexicon. It was obviously said without malice or even forethought. Once again, in lieu of the severity of the ‘offense’, your reaction worries me about both your mental and physical health.
But wait a second… what if this is all a media stunt? What if this is nothing more than a way to get your face plastered on national news for a few minutes, perhaps increasing your station’s prestige and advertisement revenue? What if, by whoring to the almighty dollar, you have to try and discredit one of the only alternatives to Bush III? Well, sister, discrediting Obama is tantamount to trying to make McCain look good. Making McCain look good is like saying you enjoy fucking the average American and would like to see more war, bullshit politics, substandard status quo and selling off of our country and rights to rich foreign investors. You appear to be a selfish bitch who would destroy this country for face time. FACE TIME. That is deplorable.
On a lighter note, I really like that you claim to be a journalist. I think it’s because I really love irony and self delusion.
- Taking a journalism class does not immediately qualify you as a journalist in the same way that going to Hamburger University does not make you a Chef de Cuisine.
- Standing in a safe suburb in a designer coat (by Coleman) and giving your ‘opinion’ about flashers or reading cue cards about the Dow Jones average does not make you a journalist.
These things only make you a talking head, a job that has been made moot by scores of teenagers who, while drooling over Hentai tentacle porn while studying Adventures in Game Design at the local Tech Camp, have written animated computer characters that are not only better than you at your job, but can arouse more than 2% of the straight men in your 25-54 demographic. You are less than useless, and I’m sure you feel it, which is why your reaction is so much more pitiful. You are painfully aware that you’ll never have the chance to be a real journalist, someone who’s on the front lines, taking fire, someone like Walter Cronkite, who had the respect, and ear, of Presidents. Oh hell, I forgot. While you were whining like a spoiled little brat and desperately trying to suck in the limelight like it was a gallon tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, people are dying all over the world. Between the cyclones, government oppression and the all out wars that are happening, you, Ms. Journalist, make national headlines because someone called you something nice for once in your life. He then apologized, leaving you a personal message! I wonder, after hearing his apology, why you were so angry. Could it be that you weren’t even station’s representative for this particular Obama appearance and that you just shouted your question out? So wait, to make this even better you ingrate child, you tried to shout a question over the heads of legitimate and invited press agents, were kindly rebuked, and then try to discredit the man to further your career. This really shows how shitty the press in this country has gotten, doesn’t it? You almost tempt me to redact my earlier ‘no boring deaths’ statement.