Main Stream Maroons Chant (together) MSM Swansong

So, everyone gets the press releases from the “head office” and just reads the suggested story?  Seems like I could do that for a lot less than some of these parrots earn for their posture and pronunciation.  But, I have the wrong, um, viewpoint, don’t I?

When I was in the J-School at Sooner University, an old News Dude named Mac (who kept a little flask in his desk drawer under his copy of the Open Records Act and the Bill of Rights for Journalists) told me the press release was what you threw into the trash can on your way over to the company to talk to the person who sent the press release out to news agencies.  You did NOT just repeat the story that was handed to you.  You went and asked someone who was not supposed to tell you. Secrets are the things most people want but can never seem to keep.

Listen to the stories below as they just read the stories word for word, like a script.

Does anyone remember when reporters stood on principles of truth and honesty, facing down those in powerful places seeking something called justice and honor?  I don’t suppose I do either. But, in the 70s, after Camelot burned and a nation got taken to the moon, there seemed to be a concerted effort in the News Media to address the country’s malaise Mr. Carter was so very concerned about and the new style of sitcom (no Andy Griffith style of moral telling needed for the 70s family — just make them laugh.  Or, at least make them stare at the nipples.)  So, along with the strange families of RoseAnne (and the Bundys which took caricature to a grotesque level that landed us at the Simpsons and Family Guy’s doorstep.  Some journeys that take a bad direction should just be discontinued.  Otherwise, they lead to night-time trips to Dallas and visiting the Carrington Dynasty for delusional storylines coupled with decadent behavior by the idle rich.  Next thing you know, there will be actual television shows which film terrible behavior and call it entertainment.  Oh… reality TV is what it is called?  Sounds dull.

But, in the wake of the Watergate Scandal my generation became aware of a world beyond the schoolyard.  We saw our country’s soldiers act like barbarians in Vietnam, while our politicians devalued our money, violated the sacred oath of office and sold our children’s future for campaign contributions and political capital.  We knew that was going on because there was at least a genuine attempt to expose the evil men do in the news media for a short time.  But, after the spectacle of the Watergate hearing proved that there was a segment of the viewing public which would watch unscripted political theater 24/7, one guy thought of CNN and another of CSPAN.

Since, the news became just another way for the News Industry to sell advertising time, CSPAN held on but barely.  Advertising money requires ratings which requires a lot of things for retaining the attention of the viewer none of which are any good for the mind of the viewer.  Most of us grew up with advertising jingles in our heads which to this day will provoke the subliminal urge to eat a KitKat bar when a few notes are heard.  And those are just the reactions programmed into our psyches during those early ratings boosting days of the late 60s and 70s before they made subliminal brainwashing something performed only by covert agencies in the government’s own espionage network.   My own grandmother called it staring at the boob tube.

Boob tube meant something different, as well.

Back to school in the 90s, I was a 30-something-year-old college student returned to formal education after a decade of paying attention to what was happening in the world wearing a flight suit as an aircrew-member in the USAF. Instead of making fun of Mac with the young students in my News-writing Class, I made a habit of stopping by his office to drop off a donation purchased on clearance racks at the AAFES liquor store where I occasionally shopped for dinner wines for special occasions and Thursdays. I would pick up some interesting things on the 90% off rack after big holidays.  Mac enjoyed tasting some of the strange liqueurs from places unknown, even if some tasted like a hybrid tropical tonic and minty cough medicine.  Some things should never be mixed with alcohol.

He had some really great stories about the Old Days in News, when he said the story drove the news instead of the cult of the personality. After realizing what it really means to write a story for a newspaper, I understood why he drank while he taught a hundred aspiring “broadcast” journalists enough to pass the test.  I was literally forced to listen to a group of them in the hallway one day practicing their enunciation and tone and popped into his office hoping to escape the blather.  I couldn’t tolerate that swill he drank, so I started bringing donations to his refreshment stock when I stopped by to discuss the golden days of the print media post-World War II.

I think many of these Maroons Speaking Mockery might have benefited from a private tutorial from Mac about what the news should really try to do for a society.  He really did make a lot of sense, even if his words slurred a bit after 4 p.m., when the daily school paper was about ready to print and needed his “okay” for the student editor to publish.  Those days are behind us.  It was a different era and we are not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Nor Oklahoma, Mac.  We seem to have ended up in La La Land.

(I have been offline for various purpose and intent, but mainly because our dish lost the ability to connect with skynet and we got the garden out and have the rabbit pens ready to place in the new habitat near the goat pens. It has been a good vacation from the world.  My son popped in for a wonderful visit then we Eastered with my stepson in Oklahoma and had a real adventure on the road again, discovering we were still crazy after all these years.*)

*Had not heard it in years until the drive from Tulsa the other  night at 4 in the morning on the road again.