From Salon.com, “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye” by Walter Shapiro Shapiro laments how he bought John Edwards’s long stream of shinola only to be betrayed when Edwards’ true nature finally revealed itself in that Beverly Hills men’s room:
Shapiro could have better titled his piece, “Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good Pundits?” That title would have more accurately reflected the narcissistic New Journalism style of the piece, while also asking a seemingly rhetorical question that may have stumped the author but the reader could have easily answered. If Shapiro bought into the notion that Edwards was honest, he suspended his critical faculties in order to do so. For some of us, it was obvious from the start of John Edwards’ political career that if his lips were moving, there was a pretty good chance he was being insincere. For those with less insight into the souls of pathologically phony politicians, there were more objective markers. Edwards’ radical transformation from southern centrist to radical populist, a transformation that happened to be extraordinarily politically convenient, should have sounded alarm bells. And then there’s the way Edwards publicly repudiated his most famous rhetoric with his own conduct. Edwards’ big issue, indeed practically his only issue, was the disparity between America’s rich and poor. Remember all the anguished crapola about the “two Americas?” Now, someone who was truly concerned about the gulf separating America’s rich and America’s poor wouldn’t try to win a Gold medal in conspicuous consumption. And yet John Edwards built himself a 28,000 square foot mansion while touring the country lamenting the chasm between America’s affluent and it shivering street urchins. Mind you, this isn’t an issue of mere hypocrisy. We’re all hypocrites to some extent or another. This is an issue of particularly brazen, public lying – for all of Edwards’ talk about the two Americas, his personal conduct belied any true concerns he might have regarding the subject. And then there were other disquieting reports of the true Edwards in the public record. In his book that came out last year, Bob Shrum relayed the following anecdote:
Tellingly, neither of the principals involved bothered to come forward to dispute Shrum’s recollection. So is it shocking that such a fellow would cheat on his mortally ill wife while recklessly jeopardizing his political agenda (not that he ever gave a fig about that agenda)? Of course not. The more pressing question is how he was able to get away with such a stunt. Okay, he personally charmed Walter Shapiro so Shapiro gets a pass based on his apparent congenital gullibility. But what of the rest of the putatively objective media that didn’t get to bask in Edwards’ golden glow over “raw” dinners? Why were only Mickey Kaus and the National Enquirer curious about this fellow who so energetically sought to be the world’s most powerful man?
