Journalism Was Dead Long Before Blogs

I accidentally stepped in some local news last night, announced by its ISO-standard mating call:

Authoritative White Guy: "I'm Mike Johnson."
Usually Asian Woman: "And I'm Trish Yamota."
Authoritative White Guy: "And this is the Channel Three Eleven O'clock News!"

This introduction is so common, so boilerplate, that they could replace it with pretty much anything -- including the truth -- and nobody would notice:

"I'm a drooling simpleton."  "I'm the journalistic equivalent of a spastic colon."  "And this is the Channel Three Eleven O'clock News!"

"I'm-- Ooo!  Pretty!"  "I appear to have wet myself."  "And this is the Channel Eleven Three O'clock News!"

"I'm a howler monkey." "I, also, am a howler monkey."  "And this is the Channel Three Eleven O'clock Poo-Flinging Time!"

And then they show half an hour of on-the-scene-thirteen-hours-too-late crime reports and adorable-animal stories and clips of amusing and/or horrifying video from place that aren't within a thousand miles of "local."  Or "news."

And then they say, "Good night," but they don't mean it.


 




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