I miss the 'kiss my flag' guy...
Earlier this month, Fox News commentator Bill O'Reilly found himself on the
other side of the firing line for having used the term "wetback" in a
discussion about illegal immigrants on his nightly program, "The O'Reilly
Factor."
Indeed, the uncomfortable position in which this puts the pugnacious host
is pure poetic justice: For seven years, the former "Inside Edition" anchor
has brought a brand of dyspeptic discourse to the airwaves, lording over a
talk show that's as much about his bully tactics as it is about the issues
of the day.
He has infuriated a litany of guests to the point of distraction: Barney
Frank turned beet-red at having his words twisted by O'Reilly; Susan
Sarandon sadly shrugged at not being able to speak her mind; smarter public
figures flat-out refuse to go on the program. Now saddled with the
"wetback" fiasco, it's O'Reilly's turn to feel misunderstood.
Like most American viewers of his show, I've often imagined how I would
fare in the hot seat, wondering whether I'd have the presence of mind to
return O'Reilly's vitriolic volleys with similar agility, or simply crumble
beneath his assault. Unlike most viewers, I got my chance.
Last month, I wrote an essay in a national newspaper suggesting that
O'Reilly's mean-spirited program was just another part of the low-witted
showcase for shame now infecting TV -- from "Survival" to "Joe
Millionaire." To my astonishment, the day the article appeared, O'Reilly's
office called to invite me on the show. Against the advice of those closest
to me (my father-in-law: "Are you sure you want to go on?"; my wife:
"You're nuts"), I found myself clipping on a microphone 10 hours later and
facing off with the viceroy of venom himself. Our ensuing confrontation
confirmed something I'd always suspected: O'Reilly has achieved his dubious
fame on the backs of his guests (whether he considers those backs to be wet
or not).
Although he professes to offer a "no-spin zone" of equal-time give and
take, in truth the man simply doesn't fight fair. Before the taping began,
he glanced at the notes I'd brought with me and glared. "You won't get to
read them," he snapped. "This will all go by in a flash." Then, when the
cameras blinked on, O'Reilly launched into a 3 1/2-minute monologue -- one
that I'd repeatedly been told by his handlers not to interrupt -- in which
he trashed me, my essay and my "committed liberal" ilk. Consequently, I
spent the entirety of our subsequent conversation rebutting his allegations
rather than discussing the theme of my article: his bad manners.
Before I knew it, O'Reilly was giving me a final whipping in his wrap-up.
Then there was the name-calling. In the nine minutes, 58 seconds we were on
the air, O'Reilly resorted to playground pejoratives no fewer than 20
times, calling me, among other things, "cheap," "sleazy," "foolish" and "a
left-wing journalist out for blood." At one point he even referred to me as
"a weasel" -- the name he had reserved for actor George Clooney -- but then
took it back. The retraction disappointed me. For a moment, I was flattered
to share a slur with a Hollywood stud.
Finally, O'Reilly preposterously elevated our on-screen dispute to one of
politics. Instead of responding to my charges -- that he's a belligerent
blowhard -- he took the absurd position that the newspaper that had
originally published my essay did so because it disagreed with his stance
on a war with Iraq. Can you say "narcissist"?
As much as O'Reilly can be credited with pioneering a new wave of televised
rancor, he is no longer alone: His success has spawned a crop of similarly
cranky on-air commentators, all of them bent on turning the sanctum of
public debate into a noisy free-for-all.
Still, the question remains: Did I win my face-off with the dean of mean?
Hard to tell. The most I got from my friends was, "You held your own," "You
looked good" and "Hey, at least you didn't cry."
But I do know I got under the guy's skin. After the taping, when most hosts
drop the showbiz artifice and extend a hand to thank their guests, O'Reilly
kept his head down, pretending to study his notes. The silence was
embarrassing, so I left.
As I said, bad manners.
http://www.latimes.com/news/custom/showcase/la-oe-kluger21feb21.story
