by David Cross
Anyway, as you know, that date, 9/11, became known as the “Day America Lost Its Innocence.”™ * But kids, some clouds will occasionally have a silver lining, and this cloud had the most glittery one, for although America did lose its innocence, it simultaneously gained its ignorance! And that’s no small feat. Can you imagine how difficult it must have been? For the world’s (then) only superpower to move decidedly backward in thought and deed in such a time of serious and tangible progression was almost inconceivable. It would take a volatile and complex combination of state-induced fear, willful ignorance on a mass scale, an awakening of base intolerance, and a lolling, passive handing over of the basic civil rights this country once prided itself on as what separated us from almost every other nation on earth, thus increasing one hundred-fold the power assigned to the very same authorities who didn’t do their job of protecting us in the first place.
I would explain to young Shanice and Grillith † that for America to gain its ignorance in such a speedy and life-changing way, it would take nothing short of a revolutionary act. Because this country was formed with the specific and then-revolutionary concept of religious freedom, as well as the rejection of the kind of secretive autonomous authority we find ourselves under, accountable to no one but a couple of Saudis and the Federal Reserve. So you can see, dear Autumn and Scooter, why a one hundred and forty degree shift was such a surprise. America had been fiercely and proudly fought for, it was a country with ideals so just and right and based in unwavering absolutes of fairness and concern for all human beings regardless of race, sex, creed, or class. But, as you both know, on that fateful day, a revolutionary act was committed by a group of men from Saudi Arabia, who hated America for previously well-articulated reasons. Part of the problem too was that they believed in a different Book than we did. The Book they read was much different from the Book we read. Both Books are very, very old and are interpretations of old transcriptions of anecdotes that had been verbally passed through hundreds of generations over the years in languages either dead or foreign to us. For example, it seems strange that, according to one of the multitude of authors of the New Testament, that God would want us to eat cow poo, but it states clearly in Ezekiel 4:15, and I quote, “Lo I have given thee cow’s dung for man’s dung and thou shalt prepare thy bread therewith.” So there you go.
I watched from my computer as this country, led by TV, proudly pulled itself up by its imaginary bootstraps, which if not imaginary would most likely be manufactured by outsourced labor in Sri Lanka, or China, or Honduras or anywhere else the great gift of child labor is. But don’t get upset, little Warwick and Ginnifer, child labor is illegal in America. You have communist unions and crazy liberals to thank for that. We would never stoop to such an uncivilized and blatantly un-Christian ideal. Nor would we ever condone it. Ever. Ever! Anyway, kids, that’s when we collectively made a concerted effort to decide to go ahead and lose our innocence. We knew how hard this would be. What I mean by this is we were obligated to become an angry country. Our past history shows that America has never been angry or alarmist unless it was absolutely warranted. We were forced out of an idyllic reverie and made to see an ugly, brutal world that lay just beyond our beautiful, well-fed borders. How could people act so crudely? So insensitive and barbaric? And according to the prevailing winds, these were just the French! The French had had the audacity to agree with the rest of the world who disagreed with us. What happened to simplicity? What happened to simple folk doing simple things and thinking simply? All of a sudden we allowed ourselves to be divided into two groups, those who were either against us or were for us. The Red States vs. the Blue States. We proudly drew up lines of battle. The Red States, being the fattest and most illiterate, * steeped in a proud, hundreds-of-years-old tradition of intolerance and piety, which ensured their obesity and stubborn ignorance for generations, found themselves in the position of having to defend their leaders from questions of incompetence, lying, collusion, graft, treason, and, even worse, being too Christian, from the Blue Staters, a loud, ineffectual, humorless group of braying know-it-alls who didn’t know all that much actually, who were equally as ignorant, albeit about different things than the Reds. The Blueys thought that wearing a T-shirt featuring a pun about President Bush with a word that sounded like “fuck” but wasn’t actually that word was a terrible, crude affront. Yes, it was truly a ridiculous time, I will tell sweet innocent Jovanda-Mae and Wee Willy Whistfield. And then, after I’ve laid them gently in their pro-biotic chamber pods, I will whisper into their tender ears the words of the late, great, Rodney King: “Can’t we all just shut the fuck up?”
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Bill O’Reilly Fantasy
I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THE O’REILLY FACTOR AND THERadio Factor are still on the air. By that, I mean allowed to stay on the air. The amount of misinformation that’s disseminated from the host, Bill O’Reilly, is so vast and consistent, that you wonder what it would take. What absolutely, 100 percent wrong “fact” that Bill O’Reilly cites that becomes the basis for a twenty-minute diatribe in which his audience is encouraged to take his outraged position will be the straw that breaks the camel’s hypocritical back? It’s hard to imagine, given the egregiousness of his many “errors.” I can’t really think of another job where one would be allowed so many mistakes or actual lies. (Outside of “Page Six,” TMZ, various gossip sites, politicians, cereal manufacturers, lawyers, P.R. firms, government officials, pundits, infomercials, the tobacco companies, pharmaceuticals, Monsanto, real estate companies, Henry Kissinger—oh wait… I get it.)
In a perfect world, knowingly lying about something would be a punishable offense. But it’s not. Unless you lie under oath à la Scooter Libby, you can glide through the whole process like a greased pig on a buttered Slip ’n’ Slide, and even then you can be pardoned. Think about it: if a history teacher at any level of teaching in any school outside of Appalachia or an Indian reservation, public or private, were to teach the same amount of completely wrong information that Bill O’Reilly dispenses each day, he or she would be rightfully fired. Then they would never be allowed to teach in America again. That shit may fly in China or Azerbaijan, but America? No, thanks. We’d rather have the facts correct, please.
Right? Hmmmm, maybe not. Okay, let’s approach this differently. What might happen if video footage of a news/opinion show host from, say, Russia or Venezuela using the exact same tactics that Bill O’Reilly uses when engaging someone he disagrees with started making the rounds on the Internet. It would be used as an example of the dangers of state-run media in an authoritarian government. We would watch it and be thankful we don’t have that kind of thing over here. We learned our lesson with the circus sideshow that was Morton Downey Jr. and Wally George. So it is curious and frustrating that not only is Bill O’Reilly not in jail and/or dead by his own contrite hand, but that, worse, he is a millionaire a hundred times over. If he were to call himself a comedian, of course, he could get away with a few fact boners (as I like to call them) every once in a while. But he doesn’t. He takes himself seriously. So…
Back in June of 2006, I had been asked to appear in studio on The O’Reilly Factor on FOX News. T
his was due to this very story that you are now reading. Appearing on his show was not a decision I made lightly, nor was it made alone. I had seen firsthand Bill O’Reilly’s mendacious, insulting, and immature way that he would conduct a “discussion” with people he didn’t agree with or even remotely like. His was well-known and documented habitually uncivil behavior, and I wondered if I wanted to put myself through that potentially frustrating and deflating experience. I consulted several people, including many past guests of Mr. O’Reilly, and, after getting their takes on their experiences as well as advice, often unsolicited and imparted with passionate urgency, I called the show back and accepted their invitation. I felt a heavy sense of duty. I was David Cross to his Goliath O’Reilly.
There were numerous rules that they insisted I adhere to before I was allowed on. And these weren’t just wardrobe ideas or verbal rules for while on the set. These were written in triplicate by his lawyers and held within a seventeen-page waiver that I had to sign and have notarized in front of three witnesses. Among the numerous points of interest in the waiver:
You are not to mention Mr. O’Reilly’s smell. It’s a genetic problem that he has had since he was a teen. The clinical name is Irritable Syndrome, and it causes the host body to reek as if it were rotting from within, which it is, spiritually.
You are not to get within six inches from Mr. O’Reilly’s fingers. If Mr. O’Reilly starts to waggle his fingers at you, it is solely up to you and you alone to get out of the way of their path. Neither Mr. O’Reilly nor FOX News are responsible for any damages occurred from poking, pointing, and/or waggling.
You are to take the blue pill forty minutes before the interview. You will take it with eight to ten ounces of water. Both the water and pill will be provided for you, although the cup will not be. You may rent the cup for a one-time charge of two dollars. Should you lose the cup you will be charged a one time fee of thirty-four dollars twice.
If you happen to be on the show during the official one millionth time that Mr. O’Reilly mentions his “blue-collar roots,” there will be a brief pause in the interview, which will be signaled by a wailing siren. Several balloons will drop from the ceiling, and the “No Spin” dancers will enter the set to the “No Spin Zone” song (by country and western superstar Dilbert Creek). There will be a one-minute and thirty-second celebration, and then it will be back to the interview. Your name will also be entered into the giant drum, making you eligible for the grand prize trip to Aruba.
You are to read and sign that you understand the Krugman Rule, wherein you are to feign ignorance and/or indifference to Mr. O’Reilly’s misinformation. You are encouraged to say your point and get out as much information as you are able to, but if Mr. O’Reilly corrects you and you know for a fact that he is wrong, you are to address this in writing after the show has taped! This is very important, and failing to heed this will result in a suspension of appearing on not only the show but the network itself.
Again, this was a partial list of rules. I got a record of some of the past guests from a “for pay” website link from FNC (FOX News Corp.) and got in touch with the ones I was able to. * I heard from Tom Duckett, a truck driver for “Aunt Grannies Old-Fashioned, Country Tyme Chemotherapy.” Mr. Duckett had been asked to appear on the show to represent the transportation industry drivers who were then claiming to be under intense duress due to the passage of the Pharo/Haman bill, allowing increased workloads and decreased available time allotted to deliver said loads. Mr. Duckett explained to me that he was under the impression that he would come on and talk to Mr. O’Reilly about general “working-class experiences” and how, through driving in the heartland, he was able to see the real Americans out there and how they live a proud and simple life, unlike the fake Americans who live in cities on the East or West Coast.
He was slated to appear alongside Blaire Harmon, an ex-lobbyist, current rapist who was now working to educate the public against the dangers of a bill before Congress that would legally reduce the number of hours an employee of any business would be allowed to drive a truck. Mr. Duckett would routinely be asked to drive up to 2,000 miles and back in a 48-hour period. Mr. Duckett, who initially welcomed what he thought would be extra income, had lost his ability to operate a truck seconds after losing his left eye and the use of his jaw for five months after getting into an accident stemming from a hallucination of a family of deer trying to cross the highway after he had driven for 32 hours straight. What he thought were deer were in fact a Mexican family and just one deer. Although, to be fair, the Mexican family was acting “deerish.” Mr. Duckett found himself blindsided by Bill O’Reilly when, after correcting Bill that Montana’s speed limit of 75 miles per hour was not “an example of the Socialists trying to take over,” Bill called him a liar and a pinhead and went to lengths to say that his head was not unlike a pin. “Idiot,” “fraud,” “dangerous,” and “anti-American” were also said, along with “jerk nose,” “baby brain,” “goofy gus,” and “shit-storm Stanley,” as well as “poo feet,” “Indian-giver extraordinaire,” “the opposite of decent,” and “a real dink,” once Mr. Duckett’s microphone was turned off and burned. Also, “dickbuttballs,” “stinky noise maker,” “worse than Tutankhamun” “gold digger,” “fascist elitist,” and “caramel-coated candy apple faggot wannabe.”
I rode my bike up to the FOX studios on Sixth Avenue and, after going through security (ID check, background check, voting record, retinal scan, credit report, and optional anal probe), I was ushered through the lobby and through to the second security area (flight records checked, blood test, urinalysis, B. F. Skinner box placement, Pledge of Allegiance, and optional anal tuck and roll). A pleasant but rather formal young woman named Gretchen greeted me with a smile and a chocolate American Flag. She was very nice but walked super-quick, though, as if I had a steadycam strapped to me and we were shooting a scene from Grey’s Anatomy. Also, she wore an earpiece and bulletproof Kevlar vest. I asked her what was up with all the security.
“Ever since 9/11, we’ve been on threat level Ultra Red… or at least trying to be.” She slowed as we approached a thick, foreboding door with an animatronic likeness (at least I think it was a likeness) of Sean Hannity. Gretchen stood in front of it and said, “You’re a great American, Sean.” “And you, too, my friend,” said the robot, and the door opened. Everyone was really nice, and I was soon introduced to Bill O’Reilly.
He was more pleasant and avuncular than I expected, and as he graciously offered me a cup of coffee he told me how excited he was that I was on the show and mentioned twice how impressed he was with my courage for coming on. We talked very briefly about his newish book, A Bold Fresh Piece of Humanity. I asked him about the title and what made him decide upon one that could be so easily mocked. He told me he didn’t know what I was talking about and asked what I meant. And I’ll be honest here, I was more than a little nervous and hemmed and hawed. “Well, you know, you could substitute almost anything for the word humanity.” “Hmmmm, you mean like ‘cake’ or something? A Bold Fresh Piece of Cake. Ha ha! I get it. That’s a good one. I never thought of that.” He said he had to get ready and thanked me again for coming on and walked into Hair and Makeup. While he got ready, I spent the next three hours reading the old copies of Newsmax and Alan Colmes’ book Huh? that were prominently placed in my dressing room. Finally we were ready to tape the show.
I was the second guest on that night, following a panel consisting of William Bennett, Newt Gingrich, and the ghost of Dennis Miller discussing “What’s wrong with kids today with all their rapping and drugs and video games?” I was introduced as the “iconoclastic author of I Drink for a Reason,” and as I smiled somewhat tightly (I was still a little apprehensive about all of this) I felt a strange sensation on my ass, as if my chair had the tiniest mild shock going through it. I fidgeted a bit and tried to not let it bother me. I thought it might have something to do with my mic pack. After a couple of soft, friendly questions about how this book was
doing, he asked me to share some amusing anecdotes about a promotional reading I gave at Brooke’s Chinook Books, an independent book store in Fairbanks, Alaska, selling books to North American Indians and their salmon. I took the bait (no pun intended) and quickly got hooked by O’Reilly (no pun intended). He then began to reel me in (pun intended) and left me dangling on the line with a fishhook in my mouth (no pun intended) as I flopped around the deck gasping for air (no pun intended) like a fish out of water (pun intended).
As I started to mention giving a reading of a piece I had written entitled “In Anticipation of Reading This Right Now,” which you’ll find elsewhere in this book, he jumped on my general description of the salmon in attendance as being “one of the dumber fish out there.” “Hey! Uh-uh! Not on my show, mister! That kind of invective may make your far-left zealot pinhead fans laugh, but it has no place on this show. NO PLACE!” It took me aback, and I stammered for a second, but then I got my bearings. I started to reply that it was just a joke, like my earlier joke about what if the holes in Jesus’ hands and feet didn’t heal up properly because of the lack of medicines available back then, and what he could then use the holes for when he got to Heaven in a practical sense. It was meant to be a lighthearted look at his Jesus, but O’Reilly refused to let me explain by cutting me off and going to the other guest.
