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, May 20, 2011

Stop Believing. Please.



It ain't all sturm and drang at the office. On regular occasion, puerility erupts. Take yesterday, when I rolled in from a shoot only to find the house-cats gettin' their Glee on. Seems a local weather legend is coming to El Ocho and his name is the same of a certain third banana. The promo gang got to thinking and before anyone in the newsroom could duck and cover, it was lights, camera, wise-ass. And while it's hard to write a news story with five of your favorite coworkers butchering Journey at top-lung, it's part of the fabric of life inside a television station. I wouldn't have it any other way. Frankly, some of your workplaces scare me. I visit all kinds, from the toothpaste factory where the staff is wrapped in gauze to the executive secretary's antechamber, where everyone is polite, quiet and clearly miserable. Give me a room full of goofballs any day, a crack squad of trivia buffs and karaoke champs who, when not distilling the travails of an entire region, are more than happy to trade in their dignity for a few seconds of face-time. That, my friends, is what makes America great, which is why you'll find me at full salute each and every time the room goes stupid. These are my people, hear them roar. I just wish I could say they're acting....

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