Carlson Is Creating His Own Network (Using His Own Tissue of Lies)

Some Thoughts on The Comeback Squid

By Ed Goldman

Tucker Carlson, the squeaky-voiced darling of non-thinking people everywhere, is apparently launching his own TV/internet/cyber/death-ray network. I’d be among the first to sign on as a subscriber if the early adopters hadn’t used up all of the crayons and fingerpaint in the cubbies.

As you may know, Carlson promoted the fact that the January 6, 2021 attempt to overthrow the United States government—which caused the deaths of less entitled people than Carlson—was just a misunderstood attempt by avid tourists to see what it felt like to hold gavels in their hands while costumed as horned, apocalyptic animals. 

For devotees or practitioners of hybridization, which occurs when organisms from two different species are blended or bred together, Carlson is what you get when you clone a bow-tie with a debatably human anus. 

Can you guess I’m a fan? One hundred percent! Put me down as a Tucker Trucker and a proud member of Castratos for Carlson, a white-gospel group we formed in honor of his compelling voice and pronouncements. (It should be noted that our initial group name, News Newts, had already been registered at the popular URL registration site, Twinkie-Twee and Me.)

According to various accounts, Tucker will be available on every platform except the one I’d most like to see him on: a railroad one. As he awaits the last train to Clucksville.

If these opening five paragraphs upset you, you’re not alone. This column’s Ambiguous Political Consultant, Todah Lee Unser-Tinne, reviewed them a short while ago—as always, for potential slander, libel, typos and hidden naughty words—and wrote me the following memo (italics are hers, but I’m sure she’d be willing to rent a few to interested parties):

“My Dear Edward, Edwin or Edgar (Can’t you use your full given name, whatever it is? Do you think a two-letter nickname makes you sound fun? It does not):

“While I realize you try to keep The Goldman State apolitical at least 16 percent of the time, I think the opening five paragraphs of this column are anything but.

“I admit I have never been a fan of Mr. Carlson—or of anyone who sounds like an escapee from the lyric-soprano section of the Norman Luboff Choir. This is due to an unfortunate incident in my youth when I was physically removed from a glee club rehearsal at Millard Fillmore Continuation High School for giggling my way through a falsetto version of the coal miner classic, “16 Tons.” 

“Nor do I approve of the way Mr. Carlson had footage of the attempted coup d’état in Washington, D.C., altered to resemble nothing so much as some misguided or possibly inebriated docents opening inappropriate doors, desks and wounds. Even I—who pride myself on standing firmly in the middle of the road at all times except when juvenile delinquents race their hot rods down that road—have found that Mr. Carlson’s disrespect for the President of these United States has been shameful. I refer, of course, to Mr. Trump, for whom he expressed hatred and, I daresay, nausea. Shame on him!

“Pardon me, Edwhatever, but in my opinion this is no way to talk about any United States President, whether alive, deceased, impeached, indicted or imprisoned. The office must be respected. Or at least many of its furnishings. (Now, the wallpaper can stand some refreshing but I’m afraid I’m wandering beneath my pay grade to suggest that.)

“In conclusion, do reconsider opening your silly little screed, I mean column, with something a little more upbeat about the prospect of there being still another platform (Mr. Carlson’s) to offer thoughtful Americans grist for what I like to call their “mull mill.” I refer, of course, to their open, tolerant, accepting minds, such as mine own.