Leslie Griffith

McCain becomes Borat

Watching John McCain lately feels like meeting Borat.

On exporting cigarettes to Iran:

Sen. McCain: "Maybe that's a way to kill them."

Borat: "Throw the Jew down the well

           So my country can be free

           You must grab him by his horns

           Then we have a BIG party."

Reporter: "Mr. McCain you voted against a bill that would require health insurance to pay for birth control."

Sen. McCain: "I don't know what I voted." McCain scratches his head.

Borat: "In Kazhstan we say...

1.    God

2.    Man

3.    Horse

4.    Dog

5.    Woman

6.    Rat

7.    A small Katzoee (?) .."

Message from comedy lovers to Sen. McCain: Satire only works when people don''t believe you would do it.

PAM-EE--LA   help!         

Hooked on Hookers

Published on The Huffington Post and The San Francisco chronicle

Why are we so concerned about hookers?

To start with, our puritanical nation loves a good sex scandal. Sure beats talking about the war, or doing any real reporting. Americans can talk about sex 'til the Viagra runs out -- or longer.

But there's some stinkin'-thinkin' in the sad and masochistic drama of New York's governor, and it's not necessarily Eliot Spitzer's penchant for purchased flesh I am referring to.

As a television reporter, I traveled the world with men. I had to depend on them, and they had to depend on me. We became friends. The most libidinous of the group sometimes hired hookers in foreign lands, and when I protested with puritanical indignation, I got an education.

One night "the boys," as I called them, sat me down and explained their point of view. According to those who indulged themselves, men who hire prostitutes believe it is better than cheating on wives and girlfriends. If you don't think men and women are different on this issue consider this: When's the last time you heard of a woman hiring a man for an evening of hunk-uh, hunk-uh burning love?

But, before we get scrappy and mount that judgmental high horse, let's consider this: Men with power and money are insecure. Riding that pinnacle of power is one heck of a slippery slope, and it always has been. That is not necessarily a bad thing, but after claiming power and money and privilege, boundaries get blurred. Even presidents misbehave. And when they haven't had the good manners to hire a professional; when, instead, there is a name attached, it really hurts. Just ask Hillary Clinton.

The rise and fall of anatomical parts is, and has always been, a vitamin booster for the male ego. In the case of some men, a woman on her knees is the only kind they want. Some people like anonymous sex because it provides exactly that -- anonymity and fewer people get hurt.

From the hooker's point of view, face-to-face sex is much too personal. A kiss on the lips might be expected -- gag, choke, puke! So everyone gets what they want.

Remember Sen. Larry Craig and the airport bathroom stall? My only question after finding out Craig may be having anonymous gay sex was this: Did Craig give blood after 9/11 with the rest of the Senate? If he did, he should have abstained. Those who practice high-risk sexual behavior -- and then put others who don't at risk -- are criminals.

Remember when Hugh Grant picked up a Hollywood hooker? He was resoundingly criticized and the victim of many a disgruntled female-fan's snort of indignation. I thought back on when my co-workers had the "hooker" talk with me and said, "At least Grant did not pick up a woman from a bar, take her to his hotel room, have sex with her and never see her again." That would have been devastating for that young woman. Instead, he did the polite thing. He hired a professional.

There is a reason hookers are on every street corner -- men want them there.

In the governor's case, if there is anything truly hard to stomach, it is the hypocrisy of rounding up hookers and putting them in jail, then taking advantage of the process to target fresh meat.

(first published on Huffington Post)

Britney Spears and Frances Farmer

I never imagined I would write about Britney Spears, but while waiting in the checkout at the grocery yesterday, I noticed a group of women circling their leader who was holding a magazine. What is all the commotion about, I asked. They recognized me and immediately began a diatribe of assaults on the little girl in the picture. I looked over their shoulders. It was Britney Spears. She was in a hospital bed-- arms shackled so she could not hurt herself after a suicide attempt. I immediately lost my appetite.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me -- that brat -- she's addicted to attention," the queen bee in the tennis outfit said. "She's got brown hair now -- that looks nice," another one said. "Only she would wear black lace in a hospital room," another lady spewed and shook her head. They all looked like mothers themselves as they hovered around the magazine. I looked at the wild, bewildered and drugged face of the girl in the bed. "Why would she continue to act like this? She's just an idiot," they said. Their lack of compassion for a girl most likely their daughter's age was sobering.

My first thought was shame on the paparazzi who took the picture. Perhaps someone from her own family took it. After all, when admitted to the hospital, Britney's mother says she called Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil? That's a family that is either clueless or wants more attention. Whoever took the picture, and those who published it, should be thrown in jail.

Actress Frances Farmer came to my mind as I was driving home. She was a famous actress in the '30s and '40s and she was haunted by how cruel the tabloid press could be. She was an easy target. Like Britney, Francis Farmer was drawn to alcohol and drugs and therefore prone to mental illness and self destruction. Farmer had a mother who used her and betrayed her according to her sister's biography. Farmer was in and out of mental institutions her whole life. The tabloid-Hollywood-press loved her tirades and pictures of her often alcohol induced inappropriate behavior garnered top dollar.

What kind of people use the personal carnage of another for entertainment without a thimble full of sympathy? We have devolved into a strange fruit indeed. During one famous episode when Frances Farmer was taken away in hand cuffs, she yelled at the police, "Haven't you ever had a broken heart?" Clearly some part of Britney's heart is broken.

Julia Roberts was recently quoted as saying she knows what it's like to be hounded by paparazzi. Regarding Britney she said, "I just want to hug her." Apparently Britney threw Dr. Phil out of the hospital room 10 minutes after his arrival. So Julia and anyone else with a heart that Britney might listen to, now is the time for the hugs.

A Lover's Quarrel with the World

I have also had a lover's quarrel, but it is hard to keep it so. Sometimes my quarrel with the world is so sharp, so intense, that all the love seems lost.

Love is a safety net, allowing quarreling trapeze artists to swing high overhead, joining and parting, with no fear of falling. I envy Mr. Frost his ability to quarrel with the world and love it still. In my quarrels with the things of this world, I am sometimes afraid to look down, afraid that the heat of my anger has burned up the safety net.

I have a quarrel with bold, confident leaders who rally the nation to war based on slivers of truth. The whole truth serves in court; it should serve for the American people. My craft, journalism, is full of pros, cons, doubts, and ambiguities, but I must choose not to spin some facet of the truth, in the manner of teenagers desperate to go to a party.

I don't want leaders who instinctively trust the bold assertions of the likes of the Karl Roves of this world and who instinctively distrust the sober cautions of the Joe Wilsons.

I do not want to have to struggle with my own government in sorting out fact from fiction. I have accepted infomercials, but I cannot make peace with either journatainment or journamercials. I want people to remember the difference between sound journalism that enlightens and Jerry Springer's cult of perversity. I want to know the Edward R. Murrows and the Walter Cronkites of today. I want to turn on the radio and the television news and hear the truth, not advertisements for drugs that keep Americans in a constant state of lightness and emotional detachment. I want to be like Mr. Frost and have only lover's quarrels with the world, but it is hard.

The drip of small lies carves a deep channel. Democrats, Republicans, it does not matter. Imagine President Bush and Vice President Cheney telling us the truth about Iraq, Afghanistan and now Iran and Pakistan. The truth would forever elevate them to the status of humans in touch with reality during difficult times. My lover's quarrel intensifies.

Imagine Clinton, Obama, Edwards -- all politicians saying, "If the good people, in their wisdom should see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined." Abraham Lincoln said those words. He would probably have trouble getting elected county coroner today. I want to be like Mr. Frost and have only lover's quarrels with the world, but it is hard.

Americans are now what appears to be a permanent fixture of the fighting in the Middle East where Sunnis kill Shiites in tribal warfare thousands of years old, and Jews and Muslims kill each other for God. They cannot share the land because God has told each side that it is theirs alone. Each side has sites that are holy, that God has ordered them to die for and kill others for. These sites are dirt piles, as are all the other sites on this earth, but these are special dirt piles, special enough for God to grant an exemption to the rule against killing. Thou shall not kill except in the interests of holy dirt. There are Christian cults who are thrilled with all this killing because it signifies to them that the Rapture is coming, a Rapture in which God will lift them to heaven while leaving billions of wrong believers to rot. And they call this, with a straight face, rapture.

It is hard to keep it all sorted out. The Christians have only stopped killing the Jews in recent times. The Christians and the Muslims are killing each other, as are the Hindus and the Muslims, but only when they have the chance. I would like to be like Mr. Frost and have only a lover's quarrel with the world, but it is hard.

I think Mr. Frost is right, but his task requires a fearsome discipline. It requires the remembrance of woods on a snowy evening. It requires remembrance that many politicians are doing their best. It requires that the people also do their best and refrain from voting for politicians who feed them only their favorite morsels of truth. It requires remembrance that many reporters are still trying to get it all sorted out and serve it up as Mr. Cronkite would say "The way it is."

I try, not always successfully, to maintain Mr. Frost's discipline, so that I can bring to my quarrels with the world some safety net of love. But, it is hard.

Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving

The people's house is imploding! Liars and disillusioned are quitting on their own. Whew, no storming of the winter palace needed. Besides, it's going to take a few months to get off anti-depressants and sleeping pills and start paying attention again. The anti-depressant- pharmaceutical-advertising-blitzkrieg worked during wartime. We were depressed and could not sleep. Imagine that.

Nancy Pelosi has found her footing! Working to get our children, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers out of Iraq safely and showing the world a woman can be tough and tender makes me thankful. Now, lets hope she can stand her ground, and get the soldiers home safely. Then let's consider giving millions of scholarships to those majoring in conflict resolution.

I am grateful that even though the "R" word is not mentioned in the papers yet, it is clear Americans are about to have to tighten their collective belts. Even if a recession is avoided, I'm thankful I am not terribly attached to anything I own anymore. 9/11 and the subsequent wars cured many Americans of that. The war has left us overspent and ignoring needs here at home. So let it go -- love is really all that matters in this psychopathic environment. In the meantime, what do you think of this eBay advertisement: Anyone out there interested in a few Emmys and Edward R. Murrows? We can put your name on the labels in masking tape. People are getting so use to being lied to -- probably no one will notice.

A big Yee-Hah for my first year out of commercial television where I felt my-sold-out-soul getting sicker everyday as I watched my long-time colleagues work three times harder just to be put on part time status to save the media corporations zillions in health insurance. I watched as a media corporation held its annual party at a hotel, while the housekeepers inside were on strike. The housekeepers who wash the stained sheets of the privileged and wiped the piss from their toilets -- never stopped smiling. The housekeepers had too much class to tell "media" stars to go to hell. Here's to a Thanksgiving full of empathy for our fellow man.

I'm driving cross country now, and I want to thank all those attached to my tail gate for the consistent sign of friendship they wave my way as I drive the speed limit. Many must work in dangerous professions because even with my poor eyesight, I can tell some are missing fingers! On this Thanksgiving I'm thankful for mine and hope theirs grow back.

I'm in Colorado, where one of my former co-workers called to tell me her corporate media boss told her to either fill in her eyebrow frown with Botox, or she could take her human face and leave. "Hey, I asked my friend, trying to change the subject, did you see that ANOTHER White House insider is calling himself a liar? There's also some indication the highest levels of power may have been involved in outing Valerie Plame." She said, "Huh? When did that happen?" She was about to lead her broadcast with news of a storm blowing in. I give thanks -- that's no longer me. I hung up hoping she wasn't frowning.

I'm grateful Americans are angry. I am hopeful they will begin directing that rage in appropriate ways and at appropriate targets. The American military was ordered to invade a sovereign country. American's were humiliated by the bullies who said they spoke in our name. They don't. Most Americans believe in a constitution. That includes Congress. I am grateful for the checks and balances. And I'm not referring to my back account.

I'm happy we can stop yelling at our neighbors, and co-workers and banging out anonymous vitriol over this world-wide conduit of information. I am thankful that Americans are starting to finally understand why there are those who want us dead. This World Wide Web did more to educate us than anything else. I'm grateful I can communicate with those all over the world. (Bullies who yell loud, and have bombs should not be the judge of who else has them, and I'm not talking about Ahmadinejad.)

I am grateful my naiveté has been squelched forever by media corporations who deal in propaganda passed directly from the White House. Poor media corporation moguls, they took one look at the presidential approval ratings after 9/11 and became instant neo-conservatives. When Mr. Bush is gone, will those same moguls become friends with the American people again? And, will they do it by slanting the news the other way? If they do, will we remember their greed and duplicity and demand the FCC make some changes.

I'm grateful that I understand labels don't mean anything anymore. Republicans were supposed to be for less government. But, worshiping at the feet of corporations and doing the right thing are often in conflict. So, the watch-dog- agencies charged with protecting Americans during the Bush administration were often eliminated. Imagine this: The Centers for disease control is worried about a potential pandemic -- don't tell anyone -- the white house will handle it. It reminds me of Moscow during the Cold War. "We don't have prostitution or AIDS or alcoholism," Russian officials would say. Usually these announcements were made when the leaders could barely stand. Stoli, I wish I wasn't thankful for you...

Arms flung to the heavens in grateful determination to find the truth. The finest man I know sent me this one -- my dad. Suffice it to say, he is a funny, charming truth-seeking-pro-woman- hard-lovin'-man. So to get a recent email from him was disconcerting. It is a story about Denzel Washington and how supportive he is of American troops. It indicated how rare this was. Denzel visited and gave money to Fisher homes built for housing the families of troops in military hospitals. Actress Michelle Pfieffer, David Kelly, John Mellancamp, Cher and Rosie O'Donnell have also visited military hospitals and given money. Rosie (certainly a victim of misdirected anger) was one of the first to do so. After a heartbreaking day of witnessing what roadside bombs do to soldiers, Rosie tried to lighten the darkness with humor. She asked the folks at Fisher Homes, "What did Cher give -- no matter what it was -- I'll match it." "300K" was the answer. The check did not bounce. I'm grateful for the facts, and that I understand when celebrities give without the cameras rolling, they are the real deal. I also am grateful for enough grey matter to understand one can hate the war and love the men and women who fight.

Last and most importantly, I am grateful for every American willing to sign up for a war when called. They did not keep track of the lies coming from Washington because they were too busy avoiding road side bombs. I thank you, dear military men and women. I thank you beyond what I am capable of expressing. I ache for your return and to read the names of the fallen heroes that only you can tell us about. My sweet friend Toby, whose baby girl was just born, I want to thank you for being willing to miss her first Thanksgiving. Thank you all on this Thanksgiving for your bravery and sacrifices.

But, now come home. I want to welcome you back. I want to kiss your mother's cheek and shake your father's hand -- I want to pinch your children and make them smile.

What are you grateful for?

Bring on the Lobotomy

It certainly was a slap-your-head, what-was-he-thinking-moment. FEMA decided to call a press conference and then held it without the press.

FEMA. Perhaps the acronym should stand for fabricated emergency manipulated amateurs. I thought I had seen it all, but a fake press conference with agency staff posing as reporters... Five, four, three, two, one -- you're on! Hurray for Hollywood.

When the Oakland Hills caught fire in 1991 I remember a photographer wanted to move a piece of smoking wood so he could light the background more dramatically. That is certainly not a cardinal sin, but it's better not to stage anything when it comes to reporting the news. Little compromises lead to big ones as we saw yesterday. And good God, how much drama does one country need? Thousands of homes lost, lives in ruins, palpable anguish. Remembering the Oakland Hills firestorm, my stomach ached for the victims of this one.

And call me old fashioned, but I want the FEMA fellow on the scene with a little schmutz on his face not perfectly coiffed like an air-brushed television anchor behind a podium. If he's on the scene, chances are he's more likely to have the empathy that should be a prerequisite for that job.

Now, having said that, let's cut the guy some slack. It's not as if it was George Bush telling us Iraq had nuclear weapons. It was the FEMA guy trying to avoid another shit storm.

I have seen many a capable person publicly lobotomized as they turn to Jell-o and their I.Q. drops to the ground during live interviews. It's not as easy as it looks. I imagine it was fear of the unknown that led to the deputy director's bad decision. Avoiding the "deer in the headlights" look is always good and the unknown is what usually causes that. Wouldn't we all want to know what the questions are going to be before we get them? Not knowing them and answering with sincerity, empathy and facts is what separates the girls from the women. My guess is the poor FEMA fellow just wanted to get home without having to wipe humiliation off his shoes. Remember, on live television saying one thing wrong can get your fired. A fake press conference was stupid all right, but we've certainly seen worse lately, so let's lower the bar for this guy. But first let's explain the rules.

News is not supposed to be staged. FEMA staff members had not been out covering the fires and they are not reporters. This is how it is supposed to work.

Inform the audience. Tell them everything you know. Public officials should always tell the truth without slant or spin. (I know that sounds terribly naïve these days.) If you don't want to get grilled by an angry mob of journalists, tell them what you know, and if you don't know the answer to the question, promise to get it. There's nothing wrong with saying you don't know. There is something wrong with not finding out. Be available all the time with updates. Give the press your phone numbers. Tell them to call you day or night. This was a national emergency. Sleep is out of the question anyway. Remember, good reporters are public servants. They have to get information to those who need it. And after 25 years reporting, I can tell you journalists love anyone who works hard and tells them the truth. You don't have to be an actor with perfect delivery -- just a caring conduit of information.