Friday, October 24, 2008
TALK TO THE HAND
Aw yes, The Campaign Trail: that special meadow of Hell where large men in dark suits herd you this way and that, then accuse you of stealing sunshine. I'd rather shoot a walking tour of the urinal factory. But that's just me, a sullen schlub who wallows in the longview. Most TV news camera-folk run headlong into the Presidential scrum, eager to witness history with a tiny, black and white screen in their face. It's the damndest thing, really. But those of us who've done it will tell you that you've never truly lived until Secret Service goons pilfered through your gear while you and your buddies sent out for Mexican. Add thousands of screeching supplicants with one mother of a cable pull and you've got just a few of the reasons why I dodge this all important goat-pile every chance I get? Hmm? You want me to profile the guy who scrapes up roadkill for the county? Then scrub up for a prostate surgery shoot at the prison clinic? Um, Okay! Just don't make me go stand in line at the hairspray parade, I beg of you!