Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Menace with a Lens

Dear Sirs... While my family and I enjoyed much of your company’s three day Caribbean cruise, I feel I must alert you to the behavior of your ship’s videographer - a troublesome young man identified to me only as 'Gomez'. Now, gosh knows the camera calls for a creative type, and I admire your company’s lax attitude regarding dress code, but Mr. Mez’s consistently shifty actions kept me on guard the entire time I was aboard your vessel. It was my understanding that we’d only encounter Gomez and his camera during certain ship activities, but it seems your little lenser took a special liking to my family - particularly my seventeen year old daughter Buffy. Twice he insisted on shooting video of her poolside, repeatedly uttering the phrase ’Senoritas Gone Loco’. Now I’m no Spanish interpreter, but I find the implications of his words troubling, if not downright prosecutable. There was also the matter of Mr. Mez’s continued pleas to teach my lovely wife a few native dances. What is the Lambada anyway? And why would your company cameraman strip to the waist for a simple dance lesson?

Most troubling however was his influence on our 12 year old son, Brighton - who unbeknownst to me accompanied your employee on-shore for a shopping excursion of sorts. Now I cannot prove what just happened on the safari, but upon Brighton’s return I came to suspect Gomez had somehow corrupted my little lacrosse star. Not once has Brighton ever addressed me as ‘Dude’ before and I’ve never even seen him eat Captain Crunch cereal, let alone polish off a like that. I don’t have to tell you how bad this looks, nor need I tell you how disconcerting it was to wake up from an afternoon nap only to catch your photographer squeezing liquid from a dirty rag onto my forehead. He claimed it was suntan lotion, but after lab results I’ve come to believe it was, in fact, rooster urine. Is this the kind of behavior your company condones for such a low-level employee? It is my sincere hope that you will reprimand this leathery little weasel for his actions, lest I be forced to use my considerable standing in your community to have his felonious hide deported. Also, should I catch him calling my home one more time, I may very well dispose of him myself - as my former debutante now favors Che Guevara t-shirts and her once promising younger brother is only happy when hand-rolling his own cigarillos. In short, don't make me come down there!

Respectfully Yours,
Senator Francis Q. Canady

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