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, March 16, 2010

Attack of the Show

Assbags in the Background
I'll grant Pat Tomasulo this much: Dude's got grapes. While most notably a sports anchor for Chicago's own WGN, this mild-mannered reporter is serving as an avenging angel of sorts for frustrated news crews the world over. See, no matter what populated spot you set your camera up in, somebody's gonna stomp into your shot and act a fool. Spastic arm flailing, extended shout-outs, the occasional gang-sign: there's no telling what even the most sophisticated pedestrian will do when he or she spot a fancycam in action. (Remember, they don't call them 'asshole magnets' just 'cause it sounds cool.) Now, St. Pat is collecting payback and the results are both cringe-inducing and hilarious (depending on which side of the lens you find yourself)...

The set-up is simple: Erect a fake live shot, wait for the gawkers to invade your frame, then pounce. At this, Tomasulo is masterful. He, spins, he cajoles, he berates. More times than not he invites the overly curious to join him on camera, where he seamlessly begins quizzing them on their incontinence, unwanted body hair or average looking babies. On paper it sounds like some infantile Howard Stern skit, but our man Pat delivers the goods with such a straight face, such reporter earnestness, you can't help but laugh along (an hope he doesn't get his microphone shoved down his gullet). Then again, perhaps I'm biased. Those folks were only being friendly! They didn't deserve the shame, the castigation, the unsolicited advice on erectile dysfunction...

Then again, I didn't deserve that awkward rebel yell on the overpass the other day, the unmistakable finger messages, the half filled Slushee cup hurled my way...

2 comments:

jimgrey said...

This is great! I wish I had cojones that big.

Jason said...

In high school, Pat drove a white Chevy Cavalier that his cousin called The Murf-Mobile for no apparent reason. One night, the three of us went driving down some dirt road that was believed to be one of the last bastions of the KKK in New Jersey. We didn't find anything. True story.