Worse yet, you been at this so long, there's really no hope for recovery. It's not like you could go out and get a real job! No, you'll never be promoted to Vice President of Stapler Arrangement with that limited attention span of yours. You know, the one you fractured years ago with all those disposable vignettes you've foisted on an unsuspecting public. And that driving record of yours? No church will ever ask you to cart around their flock, that's for sure. But perhaps the most troubling aspect of your diminished condition? That half-baked notion you've seen it ALL. Look, two decades of putting every type of person and predicament on the news does not an education make. For insight like that, you have to rise in the corporate ranks, get a teaching fellowship or at least be put in charge of a french-fry vat or two. Only then can you possess the kind of enlightenment that comes with random letters behind your name, or a good ole fashioned hairnet. So, do us all a favor there, Fellini: Back off that deadline. The only thing you're killing is any hope your Mom and I ever had of you becoming a professional bowler. She may still claim your kind, but me...
I can’t even look at you.
6 comments:
Read this with quite a few laughs last night Stewart. Glad to see you back in form.
"you're just now realizing you got the world's most interesting dead-end job?"
Was thinking that just the other day. So true and sad.
Stewart:
I'm struck by your "minute-fifteen" of fluff comment. Is that what sells, is dictated / demanded, is sought, or a combo of multiple factors.
This local news thing, and the issues on which they focus, has always bothered me. There have to be more important issues in life....
There have to be more inspiring stories...
Than some guy holding up a hamburger stand.
First, let's define 'fluff'. For purposes of this discussion, it's what used to be known as features: softer stories that don't pack the alarm of that triple homicide graphic. Think school bus rodeo instead of school bus crash. Some view the term 'fluff' as derisive. I embrace it, for I'd simply rather spend my day chasing school kids through a corn maze than following a cadaver dog down a ditch bank. Many days i don't have a choice.
I am a registered purveyor of fluff, if that's what we must call it. I prefer 'non-episodic lens-centric cinematic passion plays exploring the human condition', but all that's hard to fit on a business card.
Cranking out b-block fodder saved my journalistic soul, for the ungodly grind of news-gathering is bad enough without being awash in corpses. I've climbed dozens of widow's porches, by myself and as part of a crew. I'll wade hip-deep through a jungle of fluff to dodge the next set of steps in my path.
Now as for that held-up hamburger stand, are we talking some fly by night place or like a long established eating hole? And was there surveillance video? Can we get it? Is the owner chatty?
Thank you for the article, very useful piece of writing.
Well my uncle who is fifty to the date he cant tie his own tie, my aunt always have to do it for him, he never learned how to do it.
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