Blatchford taking questions
A very good chat at the Globe and Mail included this:
A. Guy, Toronto:
My question is more about how you are covering Afghanistan and communicating it to us. The English language is one of the world's richest. It has so many words, so many words borrowed from other languages, so many words capable of capturing every possible nuance. So, why do you have to reach in every column in our family newspaper for coarse, tasteless profanity, the language of boors and street thugs? Witness the word "shitshow," deployed by you that The Globe's editors decided to place on the front page three inches above the fold.
Christie Blatchford:
Well, I'm not covering a bridge tournament. This is how soldiers talk and — while you may rue it — I expect that if you were here, you might well find yourself doing the same thing. War is about death, blood, good and evil, all the big things. It's also loud and scary, and sometimes nothing captures that better than good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon profanity. I confess, that's also the way I talk. We weren't called the "fucking Canadians" in WW2 for no reason.
A. Guy, Toronto:
My question is more about how you are covering Afghanistan and communicating it to us. The English language is one of the world's richest. It has so many words, so many words borrowed from other languages, so many words capable of capturing every possible nuance. So, why do you have to reach in every column in our family newspaper for coarse, tasteless profanity, the language of boors and street thugs? Witness the word "shitshow," deployed by you that The Globe's editors decided to place on the front page three inches above the fold.
Christie Blatchford:
Well, I'm not covering a bridge tournament. This is how soldiers talk and — while you may rue it — I expect that if you were here, you might well find yourself doing the same thing. War is about death, blood, good and evil, all the big things. It's also loud and scary, and sometimes nothing captures that better than good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon profanity. I confess, that's also the way I talk. We weren't called the "fucking Canadians" in WW2 for no reason.
