We must be so blessed to find that most people would like to say they aborted their children. Yeah, I think the IQ has suddenly dropped for CCSEATER2. Fetus is greek for BABY. Does planned parenthood want you to know other slight's of hand? They will be out of a job and you will be sad because you or your girlfriend can not go and kill another baby. Who are you to tell someone to kill their baby? It's similar to someone saying "kill joe" or "kill . . . . (whatever your name is)" You, of all people, don't know what you are talking about. My wife has patient after patient come into her office that are "post-abortion". She works at a university clinic, by the way. The attitudes of these "kids"(Their lack of good decision making has shown their immaturity) is very selfish. They tend to not care about the provider or the nurses who are there to help them deal with their own health. Many of these kids have been seen more than once by my wife about multiple abortions. Did I mention that my own wife is with child also? So these kids come in and say I aborted at such and such weeks...the same week that my wife is in at that time...and my wife wonders....how can anyone abort a child who can hear, kick, pump it's own blood, and respond to light?
The answer is that the one getting the abortion decides when the child becomes a child. It's sad. Considering that in the future, if they are able to have a baby, they will be at the same term as the aborted baby and will consider it "real" and "their baby" this time because they want to keep it. I know that if my child were "killed" due to an act of created violence toward my wife, I may kill them. I love my unborn child already more than these selfish people love their lives. When you love your life that much it becomes an issue of pride. How selfish. All of this and it's impossible to adopt a child in the U.S.A. Why? Because you are killing them. If you harm any of these little ones, It would be better for you to have a mill stone put around your neck and to be thrown into the sea than for you to face what will come to you later. If you can tell me who's quote that last line was, then you are at least aware of the depth of battle this is.
The Ur-Text of a Tabloid Age
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The Enquirer became required reading for daily newspaper reporters and national TV news producers during the 1995 murder trial of the greatest open-field runner in the history of the National Football League. Overseen by Perel, the Enquirer's O. J. Simpson coverage included upwards of 20 reporters who between them broke a string of notable scoops, most memorably the fact that O.J. had bought a knife at an upscale cutlery store only a few weeks before his wife was murdered. Like so many of the Enquirer's biggest stories, this one had come courtesy of a fat check. When questioned by other reporters, the salesman who had sold O.J. the knife had denied having done so—but when offered $35,000 by the Enquirer, he came clean.
During the 1990s, the mainstream media frequently found itself feeding at the same trough as the Enquirer. Looking back now, it could hardly have been any other way. From Clarence Thomas's Coke can to Nancy Kerrigan's kneecaps—let alone Monica's blue dress—the '90s simply produced too many stories that straddled the line between tabloid grist and, for lack of a better term, news.
Yet even when the mainstream media followed the Enquirer into the muck, it did so tentatively. Recall that in 1998, while this magazine was proceeding cautiously with what would have been the first story about President Bill Clinton's affair with a White House intern, the less discriminating Matt Drudge hijacked NEWSWEEK's reporting and broke the most sensational political-sex-scandal scoop in American history. The mainstream media leapt right in after him. Paradoxically, though, the saturation coverage of Monicagate, with its intimate late-night Oval Office sessions and presidential DNA samples, didn't whet the media's appetite for more. Many of the reporters assigned to the beat understood that they could hardly sit out the first impeachment trial of a sitting president in 131 years. But that didn't make them any more comfortable chasing after this tawdry story. If anything, the whole sorry saga left the media even more conflicted about whether to root around in the private lives of politicians, particularly when there were no clear public consequences at stake.
When the Enquirer first reported on the Edwards affair, the paper was writing about a candidate who was still very much in the running for the Democratic nomination. Not every major media organization dismissed the story out of hand. The investigative unit for ABC News tried chasing it down, but wound up running into a lot of dead ends, largely because of the network's prohibition against paying for information. "Reporting in the Enquirer's wake is very difficult," says Brian Ross, the head of the unit, who told me that one woman his team tried to interview on the Edwards story had found a note in her door from an Enquirer reporter promising $50,000 for pertinent information. "The first question every potential source asks is, 'What's in it for me?' And all we can offer them is a cup of coffee," Ross says. ABC did eventually get its hands on some potentially incriminating e-mails, according to Ross, but when they asked Edwards if the rumors were true, he said no. The network never aired the tape. "We couldn't get past the denials," says Ross.
For the most part, though, the mainstream media steered clear of the Edwards story. Why? As quaint as this may sound, America's major news organizations still see themselves, at least in part, as public servants. It wasn't so long ago that the Federal Communications Commission explicitly mandated that each of the networks have its own news division to keep the citizenry well informed. Until the arrival of "60 Minutes," network executives simply assumed that these divisions existed to educate and illuminate, not to turn a profit. Even as the mainstream media have—reluctantly or not—gone more tabloid, newsroom demographics have been moving in the opposite direction. Ever since Watergate, our nation's newsrooms have been dominated by Ivy Leaguers who got into journalism to play a role, however subjugated, in the shaping of our political discourse, not to chase rumors of an extramarital affair.
Even the Enquirer has at times wondered about its no-holds-barred reporting, and once briefly courted respectability, albeit as a business strategy. In 1997, the tabloid's Harvard-educated editor in chief, Steve Coz, wrote an op-ed in The New York Times denouncing one of its rivals, the Globe, for hiring an ex-stewardess to seduce Frank Gifford. During the tabloid backlash that followed Princess Diana's death that same year, Coz took to the cable-news circuit to call for a press boycott of the paparazzi who were selling photos of the crash scene. Yet ultimately, toning down the Enquirer made about as much sense as tarting up The Wall Street Journal—a move not even Rupert Murdoch has had the temerity to attempt.
Today, most of the Enquirer's scoops are pure, unabashed tabloid fare—celebrity breakups, pregnancies, etc. But every now and then the paper breaks a category-buster like the Edwards affair and, when it does, the story is invariably greeted with skepticism from the majority of the journalistic establishment.
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