Here's an entry that I don't like very much. I usually try to write entries that at least amuse my own self, by this one can't even do that. Why? I think it's because it's too jokey. I feel that it would be better if the...
In short, the text seems even below my accustomed subpar level. The image is also abnormally uninspired and non-eye-candyish. Here, let me get the thing out of the way...
Obligatory image (detail)
This is only a detail of the official image that I'm obliged to post with this entry. It consists of some illustrations that I found etched into the stencil that came with my old handheld transceiver. I share it so as to rub my snout in the muck. Now here's the full thing:
Obligatory image (full)
Note that the part where the earlier detail was taken has a different hue in this full presentation. That's because the other image's color got auto-corrected; I don't recall why this happened. Also note that I added some salad into the mix. — OK now let's begin this pre-failed post:
Dear diary,
Every living creature should become a journalist. That’s my thesis statement. Now let me back it up:
WHY should every soul become a journalist? Because it’s easy, and good reporting is desperately needed in this day & age. All that a journalist must do is ask questions and jot down the answers with a measure of accuracy. There’s no trickery involved; you don’t need to buy a college degree — all that’s required is a pen and a pad. Go to your neighbor’s house; knock on the door. A tall man answers; you say, “Hi, my name is Bryan Ray; I’m a journalist: I write for the ‘Crimes & Gossip’ section of Minnesota’s free local newspaper. Here’s my badge, to prove I’m legit.” Then turn on your flashlight and aim it at the man’s face, and say, “Now what’s your name.”
If the man is not trying to buffalo you, he shall tell the truth when he answers: “My friends call me Celltower.”
Write that down. Then look up and say, “Last name?”
And he will answer, “fon Vandaler.”
Now continue your line of questioning, using his Christian name instead of “pal” or “buddy”:
“Give ear now, Mr. Celltower fon Vandaler, and, to the best of your knowledge, answer this query that I have for you. Here is the query: What were you doing last night around five a.m.?”
“Five a.m. is the time I usually get up; I would call that ‘morning’ rather than ‘night’. I was brushing my teeth, getting ready to go to work.”
You should write all this down, next to his name, on your notepad. Never trust your memory. Memory is a disease of the imagination. When finished, say: “Alright, Mister fon Vandaler…”
“Please, call me Celltower.”
“Alright, Mister Celltower; does anyone else live in this house with you?”
“Yes, my wife.”
Note that he claims to be happily married. “And what is her name?”
You get the idea. Now, when you’re finished with your interrogation, you can walk back across the lawn to your own house, and enter thru the back door. Sneak downstairs into the basement and sit at your typewriter. When you’re finished keying in your story, you can either fax it to your boss, who’s always at the office — he even sleeps there; because a newsman’s job is never done — or just call the paper’s press room directly by dialing the extension suffix corresponding to your department, which is two-four-seven for “Crimes & Gossip” (an easy sequence of numerals to recall, as the news cycle is twenty-four hours per day, and seven days per week), and a secretary will answer, and you can read your story directly over the land line, & she’ll take your dictation & repeat it word-for-word to the typesetter while he arranges the movable characters on the plates for the press; then the finished article gets inked, and they’ll crank out a physical draft of your piece and read it back to you; and if it sounds good, then you get a payment of $75,000 dollars wired directly into your bank account. Within the hour, you’ll hear a sharp slap outside — that’s the sound that the paper makes when it arrives: they wrap it in plastic and toss it upon your front doorstep. Open it up, find page A-2, and there’s your masterwork:
Man Readies for Toil while Spouse Sleeps
Celltower fon Vandaler, aged 53, of Thief River Falls, MN, was brushing his teeth at five o’clock on Thursday. At the same time, allegedly, his housemate and lifelong partner, Ingrid Cruise-ship fon Vandaler, aged 58, remained asleep in the adjacent bedroom. We will keep you updated on this situation as it develops.
See how easy that was? And now you are a published journalist, with a “breaking scoop” to showcase on your résumé. This is why I believe that it’s a good idea for everyone to become a newspaperman.
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