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I’m on assignment, technically on break from blogging, but wanted to briefly comment on a post Wednesday by Noah Schactman at Danger Room. In it, Schactman said it took him “exactly 23 minutes to get Jason “Armchair Generalist” Sigger and Matt “Mountain Runner” Armstrong signed up” for the Pentagon’s blogger’s conference calls that I’ve been writing about. “And neither,” he adds, “is what you would call a fan of this administration.”
It’s great that Sigger and Armstrong will be joining in, because up until now, participants in the conference calls have been broadly sympathetic towards the Bush administration’s view of national security matters, and the conference calls have thus far served as a vehicle for the Pentagon to communicate with a largely friendly audience. But if the conference calls do in fact become a freewheeling forum, it would be contrary to the clearly defined original goals of the Pentagon public affairs office. As I’ve discussed in prior posts, the blogger calls are part of a broader program that is run largely by the administration’s political appointees. One of the memos I cited said the program would be “synchronize[d] . . . with the military and with policy.”
In focusing on the blogger calls I’ve unintentionally obscured components of the Pentagon’s program that are especially troubling: briefings for handpicked civilian defense and national security analysts, retired military officials, and others who are fed talking points and story lines that the administration wants to get out. Unlike with the blogger conference calls, there is apparently no public disclosure of who is taking part in those briefings and no transcripts of what transpires.
When the Pentagon opens up those components to public scrutiny, I’ll stop criticizing the program.
More from Ken Silverstein:
Commentary — November 17, 2015, 6:41 pm
The Clintons’ so-called charitable enterprise has served as a vehicle to launder money and to enrich family friends.
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Amount by which a typical good-looking U.S. worker will out-earn a typical ugly one over a lifetime:
A Japanese inventor unveiled a new invisibility cloak that uses a material made of thousands of tiny beads called “retro-reflectum.”
A couple at a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Greenville, South Carolina, left their waitress a note telling her “the woman’s place is in the home,” in lieu of a tip.
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"She never thanked me, never looked at me—melted away into the miserable night, in the strangest manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost."