editor recently reminded us, journalists are people too. And lurking beneath the Dilbert shell are needs and desires of the kind that can’t always be satisfied by a marginally witty phrase or a Discover card….
Thanks to a reader tip, Pith was directed to the Metro PD’s Wall of Shame. There amongst the mug shots was a Tennessean
staffer, one of eight men accused last week of going to a downtown hotel to meet a female undercover officer.
A man who’s paid to determine what stories are and are not run by the city's largest daily probably should know better. Hasn't he ever watched Dateline? Bagging johns is journalism's high-growth industry.
Unfortunately, his failed vision, we’ve been told, is a three-week suspension (the Tennessean
declined to comment) and more than a few funny looks in the newsroom.
But here’s where we'll get tight-lipped on the matter. “John,” it seems, has yet to tell the one woman who he probably doesn't have to pay to sleep with him: his wife. And we don't have the heart to do it for him.
A visual exercise.... Picture a journalist. A hack. An ink-stained wretch, if you will.
What have ya got? Well, for starters, you’re probably thinking of a guy. (Hey, don’t blame us. We're not sexist. You're the one doing the visualizing here.)
Anyway, chances are he might best be described as “mild-mannered.” Glasses, rumpled hair, etc. As a rule, professional keystrikers trend toward the dowdy. All that sitting has its disadvantages, especially the dreaded “receptionist’s ass.”
But as one