Rerun

Sorry, today was rotten, you only get a rerun:

So, do you realize how tall Bill O'Reilly is? He is MASSIVELY tall. He's 6'4" tall and he wears shoes that make him tower. Just an enormous guy. He's also got the blotchiest complexion you've ever seen. He looks like a gigantic "Before" ad for Pro-Activ solutions or something. Also, his nose just dwarfs the rest of his face. His eye look remarkably beady, given the size of the nose and the impression of blotchiness that is so overwhelming. I've got to say, though, he's a pretty nice guy. He's about as full of himself as you'd expect. He's about as much of a dick as you'd expect... in fact, other than that he is personable and tall there wasn't any real difference between watching his show and meeting him in person. I got to the galley 15 minutes early, but because of the usual planning and forward thinking displayed by the military I was 45 minutes early. So I walked over to a TV room and spent a dull 30 minutes watching Leslie Nielsen on The Golden Girls. I can't believe that Mitch Hurwitz, the genius behind Arrested Development, used to have anything to do with Golden Girls, it is a terrible show. But after I watched that for a while and began to seriously consider swearing off of TV for life, I got up and went back to the galley. I walked in and passed a bunch of other sailors who were waiting to have lunch with Infamous Bill. I walked into the dining room proper and there was no direction at all. There were a couple of tables with "Reserved" signs on them, but other than that it looked like I would just be standing till told otherwise. Finally I saw a Sgt. Major who told me what to do. I got my tray and tried to decide what to eat while talking to this pseudo-celebrity. I decided on pork roast, rice, some french fries and a salad. Nothing flash or messy. (The rice then became messy. I felt like an idiot, "Always stick to potatoes with an O'Reilly," my new motto.) I went and sat at one of the smaller tables, not wishing to push myself forward. At this point I was one of about 8 people in the dining room and I didn't want to appear to be a Factor sycophant. I ate about 2 bites when Admiral Harry Harris walked up behind me and patted me on the back. I stood up to greet him, because I am Captain Military Bearing when it comes to licking the boots of powerful officers. He told me to go and sit at the head table. He positioned me one to Bill O'Reilly's opposite right. Still no O'Reilly in the room, but we're getting to that part. The Admiral sat down and asked me where I work. I almost laughed because I see him about 3 times a week in meetings, but he doesn't know who the hell I am. (I suppose, why should he? It isn't as if he and I are at the meetings alone. He never actually talks to me, but still, I DO see him a few times a week... I ALWAYS notice him. He doesn't even know I exist. I feel like a 7th grade girl.) I told him that I work at the hospital and he got excited and jumped up to tell the press that there was a corpsman at the head table. (At least, that was my impression. He might equally have been asking how the hell they'd let a corpsman get at the head table, or asking intel why there was a no-nothing bozo like me sitting with O'Reilly. Who knows what he said? He's the freakin' Admiral, he can say whatever he wants.) So I had about 2 more bites and then my friend Eppley walked in at sat next to me, which bucked me up considerably. I always like to have a buddy close by when I am planning to skewer a popular pundit. Epp was all cheerful and said he was nervous. I told him that I had exhaustively researched Mr. O and I spewed a few useless facts about the man, including the interesting fact that O-Rizzle had once played semi-pro ball and tried out for the Mets. I wasn't sure it was true as the only place I'd seen it was Wikipedia, but I planned on checking it out with The Man, if I got the chance. At about this time Mr. O'Reilly himself wandered up to the table. He had chosen, probably much to the disgust of the galley staff, a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato and a packet of regular Lays potato chips. (Not even the ruffled, I thought this showed a spirit of plebeian honor and a distinct lack of celebrity pride. I also thought, "Who's this guy trying to fool, the food here sucks, but he doesn't have to rub our faces in it." I decided that if I am ever invited to eat at Fox News I'll get the most extremely exotic thing they have, just to show up Bill O'Reilly. Probably none of that will ever happen, but I like having contingencies planned for.) So we all stood up for Big Bill and he sat down with us. The Admiral had us go around the circle and introduce ourselves. We were all polite. They kept trying to fit more junior enlisted at the table. I turned my tray sideways so that it took up less space, but there was no elbow room. So we sat and felt stupid for a second and then I tossed a Jon Stewart to John Kerry softball and asked if the Mets story was true. Billy Boy lapped it up, this was the sort of question he was dying for. He answered it at length, going on and on about how he wasn't good enough and how he had played for an all-black semi-pro team. (Apparently they used to call him white boy, which I thought was kind, since I would have called him Spotty or something more direct. Ugly? Big-Nose? Something that indicated his more personal flaws.) Then there were a few other soft balls from my table-mates, primarily BIG, BIG fans. They asked how people could think he was wrong and whether it was tough doing his show. This was when the rice became a problem for me and I was busy focusing on the table manners issue. To eat rice with a fork you need elbow room. That's my theory. Also there was an Army Sgt. who works for the Public Affairs office who is so good looking as to be distracting. (Having spent 5 months on this desolate rock, I have to say that almost any woman has taken on mythic proportions for me. I drool when I see suggestively shaped rocks. All I'm saying is that, in real life this Sgt. might not be all that and a bag of chips, but here on Gitmo she's so good looking that people, not just me, routinely walk into objects, cliff-faces and things of that sort, just because their mind is so full of looking at her. All the guys, and one short haired girl who seemed to have... well, I don't ask or tell, but a lot of people were fascinated by the Sgt. All of this to say I spilled rice on myself and tried to look like I hadn't.) After that episode shook my confidence I was a little reluctant to ask the tough questions I had planned on, but then I thought, hell with it. I jumped in with a, "So, Sir, have you interrogated the interrogators like you planned?" He gave me this little look, like he knew he hadn't got the WHOLE table in his pocket and then said, "Yeas, I'm the first one who's been allowed this kind of access...." on and on about how cool he is. And this is where I figured out what it is that I don't like about most pundits. Every issue becomes about them. They can't talk about any issue without pointing to themselves. If you ask Bill O'Reilly about abortion it will become about him. (Which, perhaps it should have been, in a nasty way, if you see what I mean. But it wasn't it has nothing to do with him personally. There are big issues with abortion, tough issues and there is a lot to say about it, but Bill O'Reilly's personal history and perspective, reflecting nothing more than the fact that Bill O'Reilly is awfully cool, well that doesn't really add to the debate. He lost me, at that point.) He went on with his normal cant, he is not a conservative, he's a truth seeker, etc. One of the kids at the table asked him, "Why do so many people disagree with you?" I thought, "Why don't you just climb into his pants, kid?" Why do so many people disagree with you? Good thing we have a public figure here to talk to, I'd hate to see the opportunity wasted without important questions like that. But then Captain No Spin broke the bank, his response was, "Well, you know there are a lot of morons in America. The US Constitution gives you the right to be a moron and there are a lot of them." The kids at the table were lapping this up. Bill said, "And here you are, fighting for the morons, defending the morons..." I said, "Well Sir, I've been in the military a while now and I have to say that not all of those morons stay at home, some of the morons are defending the morons, if you see what I mean." He laughed out loud and said, "Fair enough, son." Then he stood up to go. He said, "This will be on my show on Monday, so be sure to tune in. I have to go and do my radio show now." Then he stood around and did photos and autographs for about 15 minutes and left. I was interviewed on my time with The Factor Master by the Armed Forces Network and then I went back to my room. I was kind of proud of having made him laugh, as any of Tom Pitrone's sons will attest, getting a laugh is a big moment in any man's life. But also felt pretty empty from the experience. He hadn't said anything, he hadn't asked any questions or made any probing/insightful observations. He sounded like a commercial for himself, for the most part. He just recited his own party line, over and over. I went back and re-read the Wikipedia entry on him and the other things that I had downloaded to prepare to meet him and saw that he had quoted a few of his own tag lines word-for-word. His not-conservative line had been cribbed from every other statement he's made on the subject. His contrasting himself with Anne Coulter was straight out of his column that day. He brought nothing new to that table and I was disappointed. I suppose I ought to have known that he wasn't there to debate a 28 year old barely enlisted kid, but I had hoped that he would take the opportunity to say something of value. To show WHY he has a television show that is top-rated, instead of just telling us that he had a show and that is was top-rated. All in all it was not the experience I had hoped for. If you watch on Monday night you'll probably see a guy with rice on his uniform sitting across from a tall, blotchy man. I think my expression is probably one of cheerful disgust, both with myself for having bathed in rice, and with Mr. Bill O'Reilly, for failing to bring anything but marketing to one of the most interesting places in the world.