One way to distinguish real journalism from the phony version is whether the publisher will pay people for their stories. Real journalists don’t do that. Grocery store toilet paper like the National Enquirer on the other hand does so regularly. The Enquirer has purchased many bombshell stories from insiders who may or may not have witnessed bad behavior of celebrities and other famous souls, and then published their stories whenever the editors believed the sordid tales might drive circulation.
Sometimes the Enquirer has chosen not to publish material they paid for – not because the story was found to be false – but because the publisher wants to protect the subject of the story. Ever since Trump-bud David Pecker took over the Enquirer in 1999, the magazine has bent over backward to protect the Orange Man from greasy revelations about his abject libido. Most recently, Pecker paid $150,000 to former Playboy Playmate Karen McDougal for the rights to her first-hand account of her year-long affair with class-act Trump that started shortly after his wife gave birth. Now that would make some great copy and would probably move a lot of papers off the rack above the conveyor belt, but Pecker decided not to publish – a move called “catch & kill.” Hoping to help Trump avoid even more embarrassment right before the 2016 election, Pecker locked up McDougal’s story. As expected, when inklings of the deal leaked in 2016, Trumpists like his communications gal Hope Hicks spouted indignation at the absurdity of it all saying, “We have no knowledge of any of this” and labeling the affair “totally untrue.”
And by “totally untrue” she meant “absolutely true – this is randy Donnie we’re talking about.”
Everyone now knows it’s true because audio tape of Trump discussing the Pecker payment with his shifty lawyer Michael Cohen has just surfaced. Of course, none of Trump’s cult – including the Jesus-loving evangelicals – gives a shit.
Before this whole Pecker-Trump cabal came to light, I had remembered the Enquirer (and others of its ilk like the Weekly World News and the Globe) for producing mindrot about aliens consorting with the Clintons.
Little did I realize that Pecker’s obsession with Hillary Clinton had become a full-on neurosis. For awhile, the Enquirer portrayed Hillary as a feeble old biddy on her last legs who would be dead before anyone could ever vote for her. Then miraculously, the woman who was supposed to be dead by now gained an astonishing 103 pounds. What a turnaround!
And I’m sure the Enquirer never doctored the fat photo, just like they kept their hands off this cover photo of Jennifer Anniston.
As Trump made headway in the 2016 campaign, Pecker’s team ditched the terminal health condition angle and hit Hillary on corruption – no doubt the more effective tactic with the haters who pick up the Enquirer while checking out their bacon-wrapped corndogs and 64-oz bottles of sodey pop.
I used to work at a grocery store in the 1970s where the Enquirer and other moronic tabloids perched by the checkout counter – and I wondered what kind of asshole would buy into the sensational stories blazed across the cover. Now I know.
By the way, have you heard the latest????