On Friday nights, at 9 o’clock Pacific, I offer up silent thanks to the goddesses of reason that for at least one more week, none of the PR people have managed to shut down Bill Moyers’ studio and put him behind bars. Clearly, when it comes to his show I am a confirmed member of the cult, but I am not naïve about it. Even if the worst-case scenario were to be revealed – and for me that would be that Bill Moyers is actually an instrument of the financial officials – I think I would still love his show.
That’s because the show is relevant. And the more interesting and relevant the subject matter, the more amped up Bill Moyers is during the opening. On Friday evening, he was on fire about one of his favorite topics (and mine): money. After an impressive onslaught of trough metaphors, he announced that his two guests, both of whom report for Mother Jones, would be walking us through just a few examples of how the bankers have considerably more power than the people we elect to (allegedly) represent us. This, I thought, snuggling up beneath my afghan and sipping a cup of steamy tea, is going to be a very good hour.
There is, unfortunately, nothing new about the reporters’ premise: the outrageous tricks played by the banking people are in no way against the law. In fact, they’re perfectly legal, thanks, in large part, to the fact that the laws governing the conduct of the bankers are written, believe it or not, by the bankers. The guests produced a staggering list of contributions made by the money people when a group of elected officials – almost all of them Democrats and many of them members of the committee that ‘oversees’ the financial industry – came to New York for a visit. This money has no impact on how we legislate, the elected liars proclaim, over and over again. It would funny if it weren’t so insulting. Equally troubling is the fact that a lot of people who lobby for financial institutions are former congressional staffers.
And, faithful to the beauty of symmetry, some former lobbyists now work for the government. First, an admission: I do not like Timothy Geithner. His entire existence, from childhood on, has depended on bankers and their children receiving as many unfair advantages as possible. Putting him in charge of reforming the financial industry makes as much sense as putting me in charge of cigarette patrol. And besides, he looks like one of my brothers, which takes my dislike for him to a new level. But here’s yet another bullet point in my list of reasons I think he was, and remains, one of Obama’s worst appointments: his chief of staff, Mark Patterson, is a former Goldman Sachs lobbyist. Of the $700 billion bailout Timothy Geithner administered, $10 billion of it went to Goldman Sachs. During his lobbyist gig, one of Patterson’s projects was to derail legislation meant to regulate executive pay, legislation that was sponsored by a then-junior senator from Illinois. On the other hand, to be fair (sort of): the main criticism of Geithner thus far is that he doesn’t have much of a staff to speak of because his picks keep backing out of the vetting process or declining outright. So maybe his chief of a practically non-existent staff doesn’t is a ceremonial figurehead, a payback for a favor extended long ago. Maybe he’s just some guy who likes to wear feathered headdresses to the office. Who knows?
What shocked and aggravated me the most about this tid bit is not that it’s just one more example of the blatant smokescreening that goes on with the money being saved to send the children to college, or to retire, or to finance dignified end-of-life care or to simply fall back on if things go lean. What aggravates me about it is that I cannot blame the ‘mainstream media’ – I hate that term – for not covering it, because it was, in fact, covered. Among others, I discovered that USA Today ran a few paragraphs about it in the Fall. I’m apparently as prone to distractions as those I criticize routinely and with great joy. I’ve never denied hypocritical tendencies, and I guess I cannot start now.
For me, the show didn’t really end at 10 on Friday night, because on Saturday morning it occurred to me that I really should subscribe to Mother Jones. I had some errands to run that day, and I made a mental note to help myself to one of those tear-out subscription cards if I found myself at a magazine rack, which, of course, I did not. But that was okay, because when I got home, tucked in to the wad of junk mail was an envelope from Mother Jones offering me a special: one year, six issues, for $10. So I subscribed, but rather than “Send your $10 check payable to Mother Jones today!” I sent cash instead.
That’s because the show is relevant. And the more interesting and relevant the subject matter, the more amped up Bill Moyers is during the opening. On Friday evening, he was on fire about one of his favorite topics (and mine): money. After an impressive onslaught of trough metaphors, he announced that his two guests, both of whom report for Mother Jones, would be walking us through just a few examples of how the bankers have considerably more power than the people we elect to (allegedly) represent us. This, I thought, snuggling up beneath my afghan and sipping a cup of steamy tea, is going to be a very good hour.
There is, unfortunately, nothing new about the reporters’ premise: the outrageous tricks played by the banking people are in no way against the law. In fact, they’re perfectly legal, thanks, in large part, to the fact that the laws governing the conduct of the bankers are written, believe it or not, by the bankers. The guests produced a staggering list of contributions made by the money people when a group of elected officials – almost all of them Democrats and many of them members of the committee that ‘oversees’ the financial industry – came to New York for a visit. This money has no impact on how we legislate, the elected liars proclaim, over and over again. It would funny if it weren’t so insulting. Equally troubling is the fact that a lot of people who lobby for financial institutions are former congressional staffers.
And, faithful to the beauty of symmetry, some former lobbyists now work for the government. First, an admission: I do not like Timothy Geithner. His entire existence, from childhood on, has depended on bankers and their children receiving as many unfair advantages as possible. Putting him in charge of reforming the financial industry makes as much sense as putting me in charge of cigarette patrol. And besides, he looks like one of my brothers, which takes my dislike for him to a new level. But here’s yet another bullet point in my list of reasons I think he was, and remains, one of Obama’s worst appointments: his chief of staff, Mark Patterson, is a former Goldman Sachs lobbyist. Of the $700 billion bailout Timothy Geithner administered, $10 billion of it went to Goldman Sachs. During his lobbyist gig, one of Patterson’s projects was to derail legislation meant to regulate executive pay, legislation that was sponsored by a then-junior senator from Illinois. On the other hand, to be fair (sort of): the main criticism of Geithner thus far is that he doesn’t have much of a staff to speak of because his picks keep backing out of the vetting process or declining outright. So maybe his chief of a practically non-existent staff doesn’t is a ceremonial figurehead, a payback for a favor extended long ago. Maybe he’s just some guy who likes to wear feathered headdresses to the office. Who knows?
What shocked and aggravated me the most about this tid bit is not that it’s just one more example of the blatant smokescreening that goes on with the money being saved to send the children to college, or to retire, or to finance dignified end-of-life care or to simply fall back on if things go lean. What aggravates me about it is that I cannot blame the ‘mainstream media’ – I hate that term – for not covering it, because it was, in fact, covered. Among others, I discovered that USA Today ran a few paragraphs about it in the Fall. I’m apparently as prone to distractions as those I criticize routinely and with great joy. I’ve never denied hypocritical tendencies, and I guess I cannot start now.
For me, the show didn’t really end at 10 on Friday night, because on Saturday morning it occurred to me that I really should subscribe to Mother Jones. I had some errands to run that day, and I made a mental note to help myself to one of those tear-out subscription cards if I found myself at a magazine rack, which, of course, I did not. But that was okay, because when I got home, tucked in to the wad of junk mail was an envelope from Mother Jones offering me a special: one year, six issues, for $10. So I subscribed, but rather than “Send your $10 check payable to Mother Jones today!” I sent cash instead.
