Yesterday, I attended a free screening of Hating Breitbart, a hagiographic documentary about Andrew Breitbart. The theater was about a quarter full, but it was packed with enthusiastic teabaggers, eager to cheer on proud conservative comments, especially those that mocked education. Brietbart's father-in-law shrugs off Breitbart's origins as a liberal by saying "he went to college, you see." The theater hooted and cheered. They booed and sneered at a Columbia School of Journalism professor. And they loved the fact that the first forty minutes or so of Haitng Breitbart was an account of James O'Keefe's anti-ACORN stunt journalism. The end of ACORN is a proud conservative moment.
The problem is, I don't know if Hating Breitbart ever gets around to explaining O'Keefe's weird attempt to seduce a CNN reporter on a ship stuffed full of dildos and pornography and his other failed attempts at transcending one-hit-wonderdom. And I don't know how Hating Breitbart ends. Because the bulb blew out in the projector forty minutes into the film. I am an atheist, but I can only conclude that this had to have been the act of a merciful God. As a PR person ran into the room and apologized for her inability to show the rest of the film, but encouraged us to get together and talk about how we can make the film into a big hit, I practically skipped out of the theater, knowing that I wouldn't have to watch the rest of the movie. It was the best thing to happen to me all day.