The problem with working as a reporter on a paper is often advertisers.

Anyone who's listened to me bitching about having to write four Christmas features a week (since the beginning of October) to fill ad features which people aren't buying know that sometimes writers get sucked into doing stuff because it's advertising driven. Plus if you listen to our ad department people mainly buy the paper to see the property listing / buy a used car / see who's died rather than reading any, you know, *news*.

And of course that's before you factor in any kind of editorial line that might piss of your advertisers or readers. Now the editorial team of Crawford, Texas, the niftily titled 'The Loan Star Iconoclast' have an even bigger problem. It's the home town of Bush, but the editorial line has been decided and they've come out in support of Kerry because they say his policies will do more to help the people of the community.

No probs eh? It's America, land of the first amendment, freedom of speech, up there even before the right to carry guns until they're prised from cold dead hands.

Uh uh. Not in the Republican heartland. The shops and population of Bush's home town have refused to sell or buy the local paper. Advertisers are dropping out and in the middle of it the editorial team is standing firm.

So, after a fit of decluttering ebaying (and the appearance of a nice hefty paypal balance) I have sent the lovely people of the Iconoclast the princely sum of £12 - a six month international subscription to the paper. I think their stance, and response to the whole brouhaha that has followed shows that despite the bad reputation us hacks have as a whole among the world at large (thanks mainly to soaps which show us as money grubbing fedora wearing types gorramit!) there are still people who'll stand up for freedom of speech no matter what. We're all constantly being compared with the hacks of lore who will do anything to sell papers and have no interest in truth or integrity - but these guys are doing their bit to buck the trend.

And let's face it, who doesn't want to know the results of the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo? It's an ideal Christmas gift for the person who has everything... ;)

Now I promise I'll stop posting about the American elections like the politics geek I am. Well, maybe I will after a week on Tuesday ;)

In every four-year term there is a chosen one. He alone will face the American public, the United Nations, and the forces of darkness. He is the President.

I have long thought Joss Whedon was a god.

This just proves it to be true.

As well as being a fab director, great writer, and an all-round intelligent and funny guy (as well as the creator of the best TV sci fi show ever - Firefly, go buy it, go watch it now!) Joss is taking part in a major fundraiser for Kerry/Edwards 2004, with Whedon fans coast to coast hosting smaller shindigs which will have a phone link up to the main LA party.

And what's more, he's bringing a host of fanatstic actors from his show including Alyson Hannigan, Nicholas Brendon, Amy Acker, Alexis Denisof, Nathan Fillion, Amber Benson, J. August Richards, Tom Lenk, Danny Strong, and Adam Busch.

This rocks, although I'm faintly depressed we'll never get anything similar here (which party would they support as the better choice??! :/). Still, if Kerry gets in it's *got* to be better for the world than having Forrest Gump the Pretzel Prez with his finger over the nuclear button...

Joss Whedon explains: (magpied from a series of message boards)

Hi, guys. What's up?

And now that I'm back in the system, let me get stumpy on y'all. In case nobody said, I'm doing a little country wide phone gala this Sunday to beat the bushes (amazingly enough, that was totally unintentional. My very SUBCONSCIOUS is a punster!)for Kerry supporters in these cucial last weeks. If you're interested:

highstakes2004.com

provides the info. We'll be talking, I'll inevitably be punning, I will be deadly serious on the subject of politics but not in that how-can-I-edge-away-from-this-guy-who's-still-talking-at-the-party way. There'll be Buffy talk, Serenity talk, shrubbery, and I'll give stuff away! (Not plot stuff, signed stuff.) (and not shrubbery.)

End of stumpy! Let's dish on the stars! Isn't that Marc Blucas DREAMY?!?!

....

Like I said, there CUCIAL last weeks. These last weeks are CUCIAL. Simply cucial. I mean it. We're down to the wyre and ebery vot koontz.

I didn't ever actually learn to type. Is that okay?

....

Hey guys. I wanted to post on the thread about the fund-raiser, but it's long gone. So I'll post on the X-Men thread instead.

The truth about the X-Men [JW is rumoured to be directing it] is...

...much less important than this election. Much less important than putting someone in the White House who knows the difference between leading and bullying. I'm here to confirm that I will be doing the phone-party on Saunday and I'm urging any and everyone to attend one or even host one. (Highstakes2004.com.) I plan to be incredibly funny and insightful, or mention some people who have been in the past. We can talk about politics, we can talk about Buffy, we can talk about car maintenence (though I'll mostly just listen at that point) and I will once and for all tell you all what IS going on with the X-Men. And then we can talk about politics some more.

So many people are acting like there's little difference between Kerry and Bush and that is not the case. If you're for Bush I doubt I can sway you but if you're one of those people grumbling about politicians all being the same I'm begging you to look hard at the facts and at the smirking face of the man who is doing more damage to this country than any president in my lifetime. We cannot let apathy decide our fate. I'm sounding all soapbox-y but I am truly afraid for our economic infrastucture, our dwindling natural reserves and most of all our place in the world. We need to act.

Uh, and it'll be... fun...

It will. Insane Phone Posse, and for a great cause. Get in. I'll stay on the phone as long as anyone will listen. Let freedom ring, unless it's on vibrate. Can we pretend I didn't say that?

www.highstakes2004.com.

....

Actually, after careful consideration, we'll probably have it on Sunday instead of Saunday. More people that actually exist will probably show up. The party on Hmnoortzday sucked large.

Dragged myself into work despite feeling ill (and having been off yesterday and ill the last four days). Really wish I hadn't, but had a notebook full of stories which (because of the vagaries of my shorthand) couldn't be palmed off on anyone else.

A long, drawn out, difficult day. With one moment that made me laugh (and made me realise I don't have as much presence of mind as some people!):

A woman came in saying she had been accosted by a flasher. She rang the police and hasn't heard anything back and was complaining bitterly about the fact they weren't interested in her 'evidence'.

I asked her what her evidence was. It turns out she got out her camera phone and took a photo of the man's bits.

It made me laugh till I wheezed. She's coming in tomorrow to show me the pics (that's right. Plural). It makes you wonder what the whole incident was like...!

THE ULTIMATE SILENCE
October 12, 1998



Listen to the mustn'ts, child.
Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts,
The impossibles, the won'ts.
Listen to the never haves,
Then listen close to me ...
Anything can happen, child.
Anything can be.

~ Shel Silverstein

Six years ago today, Matthew Shepard was murdered for being homosexual.

What will you do to end the silence?

Click here to post this on your own page or weblog

Ah. The glamour of journalism.

I'm just writing an advertising feature about the importance of having your flu jab. 600 words, two stories, one picture... I'm thinking about stapling my tongue to a post-it note for something fun to do to alleviate the boredom.

It is the final two hours of work on the day that will not die (of the week that will not die). Will be having glorious Turkish food, playing newly delivered Fable (yay!) and seeing L4YER CAKE (Dexter Fletchery goodness!) this weekend but I still have to drag myself through to the bitter end.

I am actually a bit gutted because I missed a golden chance to break the tedium. About half an hour ago some posh snotty old woman came in and started shouting at our receptionist about my misuse of 'notorious' in a feature when I should have used 'infamous' to describe Lewis Carroll. She actually made our (not the brightest but lovely) receptionist cry. And when through her tears she asked the harridan if she wanted me to come down and discuss it she said no and left in a hurry. I wish she'd stayed - I really could have taken her on, especially since according to our dictionary:

no·to·ri·ous    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (n-tôr-s, -tr-) adj.
Known widely and usually unfavorably; infamous: a notorious gangster; a district notorious for vice.

in·fa·mous    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (nf-ms) adj.
1. Having an exceedingly bad reputation; notorious.
2. Causing or deserving infamy; heinous: an infamous deed.
3. Law.
a. Punishable by severe measures, such as death, long imprisonment, or loss of civil rights.
b. Convicted of a crime, such as treason or felony, that carries such a punishment.

Not that I'm all wound up about this. Or stroppy. Cos I'm not stroppy. Ever.

Another one of those days... Although to be fair, after a fantastic weekend away with the unholy trinity (and Dirk Benedict!) it's so far been a week of 'those days'.

I have on occasion been described as quirky. Everyone at work is convinced I'm an obsessive geek (the Dexter Fletcher thing was pretty much the final straw). One of my friends affectionately calls me nut job (at least I *think* it's affectionate). My taste is definitely eclectic, and I do have a tendency to get obsessive about keeping things... As my individually labelled and organised taped-from-the-TV videos of Star Trek:TNG, X-Files, Press Gang, and Drop the Dead Donkey (with a few Whose Line is it Anyways taped on the end to fill gaps) might indicate.

But probably the largest selection of taped episodes gathering dust in a box at my parents' house (which ties in nicely with my penchant of cheesy musicals) is episodes of Fame - the TV show. It drove my sister nuts as kids when every night at 6pm on Nickleodeon everything would stop in the living room so I could watch it, and various long-suffering flatmates over the years have had to put up with no less than three taped copies of the Kids From Fame soundtrack (they wear out. What??!) being played a lot.

So in the supermarket on the way home I splashed out on this - the best songs from Fame. The lot... the TV show, musical and film. I am now a happy bunny :)

Today started badly and got worse fast. It's deadline day and having cleared my desk I was sent to a court well out of our patch to hear the sentencing of a child porn downloading copper in our area (couldn't be dealt with by the local justice system, you see?).

So I left my house at 8am to do the (45 minute) journey to court where everything was due to start at 10.30am. And then my life turned into planes, trains and automobiles without the laughs.

Ten minutes from our destination we grind to a halt. The man on the tannoy tells us because of a suspected fatality on the line we've been stopped. Lots of yuppies start tutting (gorram these suicidal people inconveniencing *us*) while I try and think of the bigger picture. It's not as if I'm going to be late is it? I've left *loads* of time.

After twenty minutes the tannoy man comes back to tell us that we'll be going back the way we came to the nearest junction and then taking the alternative branch into the station. Phew. I was getting worried there for a minute.

We start moving. Tannoy man is sounding a tidge sheepish now. The whole track has been closed in a ten mile block so we're going 20 minutes in the wrong direction to the nearest major station. Ring work in a panic. Am told to get a taxi 'unless it costs too much, get a quote first'. Ring round to find a taxi who'll get me where I need to go for £25 and in approximately 20 minutes to half an hour. By this point it's quarter to ten.

Run through the station like I'm escaping from the gates of hell, leap into my taxi and start reading through my background notes to cobble something together so I spend less time writing copy after the case is over. Am interrupted by the chirpy and apologetic cab driver telling me he's never actually driven this way out of the city centre before and do I know the way to go. I don't.

Finally get to court just 25 minutes late. After handing in my umbrella (it's the rules) I dash up to court three and attract the attention of the usher who tell me the case hasn't gone ahead yet. Thank fuck. Walk out of the court room to ring the office and tell my increasingly panicky news ed friend that all is not lost. As I'm speaking I catch sight of the defendent with his brief. They're deep in conversation, and then, as I watch, the brief picks up a pile of papers, shakes my guy's hand and then pootles off towards the exit.

My blood runs cold. Pull myself together to finish the call (tra la la la nothing wrong, just think I'd better go and see if anything's happening) and dash back into court three. Hissing at the clerk I ask again. Ah. Yes, that case went next door to court two. Feeling more and more like Eliza Dushku in bloody Tru Calling (but without the pout or need for a wonderbra) I leg it through the side door to the other court, where I'm told the case was dealt with at 10.25am.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccck.

Defendent is picking up his stuff and walking towards the door, I chase after him in true hack fashion to ask if he wants to make a statement. He tells me no (but with more Anglo-Saxon) so I retreat to a safe distance to cobble together something from the info I've gleaned from the clerk (3 year community rehabilitation, £2,500 costs). I only need to write 350 words for the front page splash about it in.... ooh, 15 minutes.

Took refuge in a cupboard, rang a contact (actually a friend, hence she couldn't turn me down!) working for a charity supporting survivors of sex abuse. Paired with info from the previous hearings I've covered I write it, then ring it through, dictating it to a very flustered colleague.

In the end it all turned out fine, albeit if you read between the lines it's obvious I didn't go to court (no comments from the judge) although my ed didn't realise I hadn't been there till I told him. Not sure if that's a good thing.

Plus it took almost another 3 hours to get back to the office. And I'm now owed £35 in expenses (train and taxi) which I won't get back till next month. Bah.

Now after a day like that wouldn't you be wanting to warble along to High Fidelity at full volume while wearing comfy pyjamas, taking bites of a toffee apple and swigging wine from a goblet the size of a bucket?

Exactly.

I rest my case. As the prosecution (might have) said.