posted on October 30, 2012 08:00
“Frankenstorm” news is in and it’s not good. Two reporters have been swept off to sea, others are stranded on rooftops and another was eaten by an inland shark while giving his live report – it was tragic!
No, no, these aren’t real headlines but one can still dream. Okay, I don’t really wish the demise of these people but, rather be at the call of their higher-ups or that of themselves; these fucking assholes need to get the hell out of the water and high wind. You know how to REALLY drive home how important it is for the rest of us to evacuate an area? Put one of your people, on film of course, smack dab in the middle of said area. This is genius.
This seems to be mainly a weather phenomenon. Sure, sports reporters and news anchors have always gotten their live shots, but they’re smart enough not to stand right in the middle of them. They’ve endured residual casualties just by being close; they sure as shit aren’t going to stand on the 50-yard line between a live play or right in the middle of a shootout, swinging the camera back and forth to follow the fucking gunfire.
I suppose it’s because the weatherman is pretty much the middle child of the newsroom family. Often a stepping stone to a hopefully larger career, they’re relegated to the end of the newscast, where we all flip channels, returning for sports. I don’t need 3-minutes on what I just lived through all day, I was there.
Any chance a weatherman has to get out of that studio, goddamn it they’re on it. There are 2-exceptions, tornados and lightning, that’s another story – pussies. They tend to leave that to the true storm chasers. Sure, they’ll stand balls deep (or on their knees for affect) in floodwater or “struggle” for footing in a hurricane, but lightning and tornados seem to leave them back on set, yet still making sure to roll up the sleeves. As with politicians, I have no fucking idea how that somehow conveys to me that you’re “in it” or “working hard”. It more screams “douche”, but have your fun.
With the exception of certain combat reporters, who I do feel are necessary to a point, these people can relay to me just fine my need to get the fuck out or go to the basement without having to stand in “the middle of the storm”. Again, I’ll likely believe just how dire the situation is even more if I can’t see your old, skinny or female ass seemingly having no issue with reporting from it every 12-goddamned minutes.
There isn’t much more I would’ve enjoyed tonight than watching Al Roker’s jolly, used-to-be-fat ass swept into the Atlantic or blindsided by a fucking orca halfway through telling me how the water had risen from his cankles up to his old sack of elbow skin in just under 10-minutes. Of course, that’s not really all that impressive given the likely location of Al’s aging ball-bag these days. (DISCLAIMER: no actual Al Rokers were injured in the writing of this column).
If an unfortunate casualty should occur, we’ll be filled with tales of their “brave” and “heroic” reporting. Again, with the exception of combat correspondents, this is not “heroic”. It is a few “ics”, no doubt about that, but “idiotic”, “moronic” and “dipshit-ic” come more to mind.
You want to film something live, make CERTAIN that multiple cameras are out there filming the inevitable looting that will take place shortly after this shit wraps up. There’s a simple formula in this country that’s as constant as the Pythagorean Theory or Area = L X W, and it goes as follows:
Tragedy + Opportunity +OR– Power Outage/Shithead Population = LOOTING. For the record, and simpler terms, that’s T+O (+-) PO/SHP = L. There WILL be a test.
These fuckers WILL loot and that’s the shit you should make sure we all see, as well as comb through for prosecution. I’ll take watching some asshole liberating the television from the evacuated home of a family of four being broadcast across the nation for what a worthless piece of shit he is over some weather bitch sacrificing hair and makeup for a shot of high winds and water any day. And, Vin Diesel willing, I’ll really take watching his baton beat-down or tasing in all of its’ live glory.
As far as the storm, show me the before and show me the aftermath. I’ve seen plenty film of hurricanes and floods to get the gist of this shit. Besides, practically every block of this continent is now equipped with a camera, that should do the trick. Between that and the posted photos by the “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, this is my fucking home” crowd, I’m good. Get your ass back in studio, tell me what tomorrow’s high and low will be (CAPTIVATING television!) and pass it to the sports desk. You can even roll up your sleeves if it makes you feel better.
Live from the middle of the shit-storm, risking life and limb, back to you…KMFP-out!
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