Logos in the Mist

Sure, it's just a snapshot from yesterday's Obama visit, but something about this picture Weaver took yesterday morning really weirds me out. The threatening sky, the blurry logos, all those retractable masts - YEESH! Makes my skin crawl. Still, I do recognize my hives for what they are - an allergic reaction caused by overexposure to these ornery beasts. Too many times I've hunkered down inside one of these immobile newsrooms while a hairspray addict clamored for a clever way to narrate calamity. Am I projecting? You betcha, but we all have chinks in our armor and mine is a deep-seeded disdain for box-vans wrapped in gaudy promises. Luckily for me though, these vessels of editing and angst are already on the road to extinction, soon to be replaced by wafer-thin eyelid implants. Yeah, it may take a while, but I envision a day when all it takes to go live(!) is a twitch of the temples and a pile of wi-fi enriched recyclables...

Though chances are I probably won't like that, either

Two Guys Named Mike

Either there's been a rift in the time-news continuum, or key members of the Fourth Estate have switched brains with my teenage daughters. How ELSE do you explain a picture of two battle-hardened photogs gaping at their phones like a couple of food court zombies? What's up, fellas? Hello Kitty drop a new cat counting app? Justin Bieber tickets go on sale? Candyland finally offer dual citizenship? Hey, how you spend your downtime is up to you, but it's awfully hard to mythologize our breed when you guys go all Hannah Montana on me. Hmmm? What's that? The President is in town and you're killing time during the security sweep? No problem, I once knitted an entire Cosby sweater waiting for Bill Clinton to polish off an intern.

Or was it the other way around?

Signs Your Presser is Tanking...

10) The unmistakable sound of Droid Tetris is emanating from deep within Tripod Row.

9) The TSA Agent you convinced to drive the VIP's over from the airport is insisting on a cavity search.

8) The lavaliere microphone the in-house audio guy insisted you wear has slipped down your trousers and is amplifying your flatulence.

7) Your intern stocked the press kit bags with muscle relaxers and cans of Red Bull.

6) The perky PR flack you hired to beam reassuringly at you from the back of the room is for some reason flipping you off.

5) That jack-ass with the blog has turned off his fancycam and is now pointing his camera-phone at you

4) That tool from Wikileaks switched your opening joke index card with a recipe from The Anarchist's Cookbook.

3) Who knew the all-nude bagpipe revue rehearsed in the space next door?

2) That writer from the free weekly is using the press release you handed him to de-seed his dime bag. Don't worry though, it's medicinal.

And the Number One Sign your press conference is tanking...

1) You turned out the lights and no one noticed.