The following interview of the undisclosed smarmy publisher of the worst garbage in the history of print was conducted at an undisclosed location by an undisclosed columnist of questionable character.
Undisclosed Columnist: May I call you Rupert, Mister Murdoch?
Rupert Murdoch: You promised my identity would be undisclosed.
UC: Yeah. I lied like a Limbaugh.
RM: You’re a tricky, underhanded sneak. I like that. You wanna see a picture of my young wife?
UC: Stop trying to snuggle up to me. How did you get so rich?
RM: Inheritance. Everybody should start with a lot.
UC: What about people without rich families?
RM: Screw ‘em.
UC: Great attitude.
RM: Thank you.
UC: So that’s it? Just inheritance?
RM: Also, I’m heavy into HR. Hey, I’ve got these pictures of my young…
UC: HR? Human Resources?
RM: No, ‘”HAIL RUPERT!.” It’s my new thing.
UC: New thing?
RM: How d’you like it? Too low-key?
UC: Not flashy enough.
RM: Y’know, you’re right. They call it, “The Hail.”
UC: Who calls it “The Hail?”
RM: Well, to tell you the truth, which is something I do not do lightly…
UC: …or often…
RM: Not important. Anyhoo, it’s my adoring employees. They’re the ones chanting, “HAIL RUPERT,” all the time whenever I’m around.
UC: ‘All the time,’ whenever you’re around?
RM: You can’t blame ‘’em.
UC: Of course not.
RM: My staff swears that, “The Hail,” started out as a spontaneous expression of love and loyalty from all my indentured employees, and also that they invented it. No lie. Believe me. Really. No kidding. Seriously. True story. Emmis. They made it up all by themselves without any paternalistic, er, guidance by myself or my minions. Y’know, sometimes I think they love me too much.
UC: Your minions?
RM: No, my employees…hey, do you work for me?
UC: Nope. I’m a reporter, not a senator.
RM: You want to work for me, you gotta take The Test.
UC: What’s The Test?
RM: The Test is like, “The Hail,” only without the quotes. So, do you work for me or not? Probably not, because I have a very strict hiring criteria. I hire only the finest, most ethical, most credible repor…what’s so funny?
UC: C’mon, you clearly have no standards.
RM: I do so! I hire women for looks, and men for blind obedience.
UC: And it shows. Your fake news fake reporters pull the covers off themselves every day. They’re talentless, mindless parrots. Toadies.
RM: Of course. It’s a perfect fit with our audience. Don’tcha just love stupid?
UC: It’s a cinch you do. Without stupid, you’ve got no audience and no readers.
RM: That’s why I love my Stupids.
UC: Yeah, but you’re manipulating them to ruin this country.
RM: You got me wrong. Everybody’s got me wrong. I don’t want to ruin America, I just want to control it.
UC: Really? You’re serious? You think you can control America?
RM: ‘From your mouth to my ear,’ as the saying goes.
UC: That’s not the saying.
RM: It is around here.
UC: Let’s get back to, “The Hail.” When you think about it, “Hail Rupert,” might be a properly mindless tea party slogan.
RM: that’s what I keep telling ‘em. It’ll happen. I know my Stupids.
UC: I’m sensing you wanna talk about Palin.
RM: A smart grandma.
UC: Not smart. Cunning. There’s a difference.
RM: I’ll give you that one. You want to get real, we both know she’s a dimwit. I know all about women. Look, you gotta see this picture of my young wife. Proves I’m a regular stud-muffin.
UC: Proves you’re a dirty old man.
RM: Thank you.
UC: So you love your tea party because they’re all Stupids?
RM: Actually, only about half of them are Stupids.
UC: And the other half?
RM: Morons. It works for me.
UC: Wouldn’t it be smarter to help America instead of hurting it?
RM: Not enough money in that peaceful crap. Besides, I don’t owe the USA diddly. I’m Australian.
UC: But you live here. You claim to like it here.
RM: I do, I’m rich. Great country if you’re rich.
UC: How about if you’re a working person?
RM: Not so much. You wanna see a picture of my young wife? Hey, do you work for me?
UC: Well, ah, actually, no. Y’see…
RM: See? I don’t have to see anything. I’m rich. I know Mel Gibson.
UC: What a wonderful credit.
RM: That reminds me, whatta you? A jewboy? A spic? A greaser? A ni…
UC: I’m an American.
RM: Doesn’t matter, you look ethnic…TAKE HIM!
Dick & Sharon, HELP! They’ve got me locked in a room wallpapered with 8×10 glossies of naked Roger Ailes. Food’s okay, but I can’t keep it down
Mike Price is a long-time newspaper columnist, talk show host, and screenwriter who appears as a standup comedy headliner for top clubs and casinos across the country.