Who needs a gym membership when you schlep a camera everywhere you go? Even for a guy like me - whose current rig has all the heft of an empty shoebox - simple portage leaves me sore. Perhaps I should put together some kind of reality show exercise tape in which I'm flanked by two portly photogs in glistening wet rain suits. We could do the dead battery lunge, the hatchback slam, the cross country cable pull. Just imagine the plumber crack possibilities! If that's not enough, we could follow that up with a cooking segment using old Big Macs and room temperature energy drinks... Yeah, you're right - we should definitely work in the McRib. Maybe afterward, we'll cram everyone into an enclosed space the size of a live truck driver seat, hook electrodes up to everybody and see who can go the longest without passing gas. Unwanted exercise, a lousy diet, squelched flatulence - I'm telling you, it's Tee-Vee Gold! But what to name our new show... I guess 'The Biggest Loser' is officially taken. OOH! I know! We'll call it ...'Wednesday'
(Apologies to Corey Welch, whose kick-ass photo of freelance photographer Matt Gregoire got me thinkin'...)
2 comments:
Ode to a cameraman... A poem what i wrote.
The camera ops that i do know
are never slack, nor ever slow.
strong in arm but weak of back
trousers loose, revealing crack.
When all is done and come to pass
we will let loose foul bottom gas.
But do not fear when time is near
we will be there, with our gear.
For it is known that when we drive
we do our best, to stay alive.
We work long hours and rarely sleep
to keep our bosses, top of the heap.
But let me tell you reader dear
our glass is clean, crisp and clear.
To tell the story which must be told
we travel till we are very old.
And lets be honest and very frank
without us there, your screens are blank.
Apology accepted.
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