No, you are way worse than that, David. You were played, dude, because you wanted to be played. Had you done the job that you are well-paid to do, that would not have happened. His pressed pants, his skin color, his Harvard Law, and his glibness took you in. No real street newsman would have been conned that easily by an obvious street hustler:
I’m a sap, a specific kind of sap. I’m an Obama Sap.
You still are, David. You live in a rainbow pony cocoon, a land of wishful thinking. It is pathetic and irresponsible. A journalist without skepticism, a healthy dose of cynicism, and a healthy dose of whiskey, is not worth a damn.
You, David, are a pussy journalist. You drink milk with dinner. That's why you work at the Times.