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...

Monday, November 22, 2010

Cecil and The Beast

With TV news crews increasingly coming under attack, a few shooters are taking matters into their own calloused hands. Take Cecil, for instance. Dude got himself a bodyguard. And not some ex-bouncer oaf either, but a straight-up Eastern European killa. I first saw the guy outside the courthouse, smoking a clove cigarette next to Cecil's live truck. None if us camera schlubs thought much if it - until Vinnie walked over to bum a nine volt. Man in Black bent his fingers back. Now everyone's afraid to so much as brush up against Cecil in the scrum, lest his new bestie gouge a fella's focus out. A stringer I know swears he saw the same guy working security every time The Scorpions blow through the coliseum. Says his name is Vlad and that he smells like cabbage. All I know is my pal's new goon is killin' the vibe down by the crime tape. I can't even remember the last we all swapped war stories, traded stroke tapes or even hazed a newbie. Funny thing is, Cecil's a real pussycat. No one can figure out why he's blowing his own coin on a heavy. Hmmm. Maybe he got jacked by some elementary kids at one of those career days shoots.

That would do it for me.

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