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...

Friday, February 27, 2009

The Language of LIVE(!)

Ahh yes, spot news at dusk... it looks the same everywhere, doesn't it? A shiny fleet of logomobiles parked askew, hazards flashing, masts slowly poking upward... The city lights twinkling in the distance as desperate citizens yearn for the skinny on that propane spill on the edge of the desert. (SNIFF!) Why, I can smell the gas fumes, birdshit and hairspray now. Smells like...WORK. Then again, I'm just a Southern-fried cynic, staring at a photo I found on the internets. Perhaps Daniel 'NewsRover' Kovach, the Salt Lake City photog responsible for the shot, could fill me in. No doubt he'd speak of cable-pulls, the trajectory of his dish, how long this piece of television delayed dinner. I'd nod, pretend I knew more than I did, then ask about my old pal Fields Moseley. At that point, he'd probably lose me with a lot of local call letters and I'd confuse him how we fill hours of East Coast airtime with less than half a foot of slushy snow. Then I'm pretty sure we'd seek out an adult beverage.

Some things are universal.

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