This week, I was reminded for the umpteenth time that I don’t know what I’m talking about.
I was listening to a radio talk show while driving to work, the Michael Smerconish Show on Sirius. The conversation was about the confirmation hearings for Trump’s nominee for Attorney General – William Barr. They were discussing how Barr had said that he was a very good friend of Robert Mueller. Both the callers and Smerconish were wondering why Trump would possibly ask such a pal of his arch enemy to be in that position. They couldn’t understand it. Didn’t he want someone who would fight Mueller, not someone to vacation with him?.
Smart me, though, I thought I knew why. So, I did something I have only done once before in my life – I called into a radio show. This is what I said in something like these words:
“Trump is a developer. When a developer wants the approval of a Planning Board, what lawyer does he hire? He hires the lawyer who is good friends with the head of the Planning Board. He wants the guy with influence over the decision maker. And that’s exactly what Trump has done here. He picked a guy who can calm Mueller down; a guy that Mueller will listen to.”
Smerconish liked my idea and he said so. That only reinforced my certainty in my stunning perceptive abilities. Until the next day
After waking up the following morning, I was, as is my habit, sitting on the toilet scrolling through the news on my iPhone. I saw a headline from CNN teasing about Trump’s reaction to how Barr explained his relationship to Mueller. Hah, I thought, just more confirmation of my incisive thinking. So, I read the story. Had I not already been doing it, what I read would have made me shit. The article recited how shocked Trump was to learn that Barr and Mueller were so close. It speculated the unlikely possibility that this revelation might even cause Trump to scuttle the nomination.
So, my opinion, so well thought out and seemingly so well-grounded was, well, so totally wrong. It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.
And I’m not alone. Any analysis of the accuracy of the spoutings emanating from the mouths of the airbags on the ever-enlarging cable news panels shows how wrong they so often are. I’m sure they, like me, think they are right as they spout. But, unlike me, I never hear them admit it. I wish they would.
I have this thing I wrote about people who are so certain that they have all the answers:
Doubt is what it’s all about
I may be wrong, but still I shout
That doubt is what it’s all about
Hey, come to think of it, maybe CCN was wrong. But, I doubt it.
We were right 