There is other news I’d rather write about than the continued parade of idiotic What It Means remarks about Trayvon Martin, including those by the Idiot in Chief. I flash back to an early spring day — March 21, 2012 — when this useless public “debate” had just begun. On my way to Louisiana to cover the Republican primary where Rick Santorum’s victory would eventually crush what little hope remained in “Newt 2012,” I stopped by to visit with Ali Akbar over lunch at Cracker Barrel.
My mind was on the primary, but Ali wanted to talk about Trayvon and Zimmerman, subjects about which I knew little and cared less.
This is the important thing to understand. A newsman during the course of a long career writes about a lot of people he really doesn’t care anything about. Unlike a commentator, a working reporter — or a sports editor, or an assistant national editor, or any other of the titles appended as my job description over the years — doesn’t get to choose his assignments. You cover the school-board meeting or the parade or the blizzard or the basketball game because that’s your job, and if you don’t hit your deadline . . . Well, why do you think they call it a “deadline”?