The recent White House Correspondents’ dinner made me sick to my stomach

Have you watched the media waxing rhapsodic about Obama’s final performance at the White House Correspondents’ dinner? Wasn’t it wonderful to see Obama doing a skit with John Boehner, both of them walking through the White House wearing sunglasses?

I didn’t watch one second of that junk. The entire affair makes me physically sick.

There was a time when the White House Correspondents’ dinner was really useful.  This was a time when journalists were tough on politicians and politicians were tough on journalists. It used to be a sort of uncomfortable gathering where people, who played their roles separately in D.C., took a night off from their adversarial relationship and became just regular folks.

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But there should always be an adversarial relationship between the press and politicians. There should never be a “closeness” between the press and the people they cover. They shouldn’t be comfortable around each other.

But now D.C. is a town built around favors and egos. So something that was once useful, to take a break and show that we are all just Americans, has become an awards dinner. And the award is the “Narci;” an award given to narcissists by narcissists.

I prefer times past when there was a dignity in the Presidency; a time when I could disagree fundamentally with the President but still have respect for the dignity the person brings to the office.

But I have less and less respect for the man that has held the office this last 7 years. And the White House Correspondents’ Dinner this past weekend made me sick to my stomach.