Can You Blame Me If I Am

The Proletarian Writer Is A Writer With A Purpose; He Thinks No More Of Art For Art's Sake Than A Man On A Sinking Ship Thinks Of Painting A Beautiful Picture In The Cabin; He Thinks Of Getting Ashore - And Then There Will Be Time Enough For Art.

Journalism Is One Of The Devices Whereby Industrial Autocracy Keeps Its Control Over Political Democracy; It Is The Day-by-day, Between-elections Propaganda, Whereby The Minds Of The People Are Kept In A State Of Acquiescence, So That When The Crisis Of An Election Comes, They Go To The Polls And Cast Their Ballots For Either One Of The Two Candidates Of Their Exploiters.

It Was All So Very Businesslike That One Watched It Fascinated. It Was Pork-making By Machinery, Pork-making By Applied Mathematics. And Yet Somehow The Most Matter-of-fact Person Could Not Help Thinking Of The Hogs; They Were So Innocent, They Came So Very Trustingly; And They Were So Very Human In Their Protests - And So Perfectly Within Their Rights! They Had Done Nothing To Deserve It; And It Was Adding Insult To Injury, As The Thing Was Done Here, Swinging Them Up In This Cold-blooded, Impersonal Way, Without Pretence At Apology, Without The Homage Of A Tear.

Dad, As A Good American, Believed His Newspapers.

We Define Journalism In America As The Business And Practice Of Presenting The News Of The Day In The Interest Of Economic Privilege.