Category: Media

A media outlet — be it newspaper, radio, TV or Internet — may sometimes find it pays off to get scooped.

It was something I found distasteful when ink ran through my arteries, to have another news purveyor break a good story. It was also something I tried, at least on whatever beat I was working, not to let happen. But when you have a story that is a relative deep, dark question pit one may have to let the competition jones go for a bit until some mysteries can be solved. A story that is sure to raise some hackles in my neck of the woods is a fine example.

A  man in described by police as “mentally challenged” in Kirbyville, Texas, died of an apparent heart attack while waiting some 30 minutes for an ambulance to arrive, according to local news outlets. Kirbyville is about 40 miles north of where I live. The ambulance that finally arrived came from Silsbee, about 30 miles away, and belonged to a company that does not even regularly operate in that area.

Now someone waiting on an ambulance for 20-30 minutes is a long time in a city or most suburban areas. However, I am sure there are rural areas in certain parts of the country, even in particular portions of Texas which have to wait even longer. So even though the long “wait” is being focused upon by the local media — and I am not being critical here, rather I am thinking out loud — there are a lot of questions which need answering to make this a much more meaningful story:

1. The story states the Kirbyville chief of police and another person performed CPR on the man before the ambulance arrived. Does Kirbyville have a crew of trained and adequately equipped first responders? I think I know the answer but I’m not sure. I think there are a couple of  volunteer fire departments nearby but how many do first response on medical emergencies? If any do, where were they?

2. Jasper, a city of almost 7,500, is about 20 miles north of Kirbyville. They have at least one ambulance service, or at least they did. How many EMS vehicles are based in Jasper and were they all busy at the time? I don’t know. I wish someone would find out.

3. Was the company operating the ambulance that picked up the victim indeed not operating in its regular area? I’m not so sure about that since it reportedly was an Acadian EMS ambulance and this article says that Acadian was assuming operation of Priority One EMS in Silsbee. The latter company had an air ambulance last time I drove by their headquarters. The former owners of Priority One were recently convicted in federal court on charges of conspiracy to commit health care fraud and mail fraud, having bilked Medicare, Medicaid, Blue Cross and Blue Shield out of  almost $1.75 million, by the way.

4. The heart attack reportedly happened at that area’s mental health facility. Does that facility not have a defibrilator? Are they supposed to have one? I don’t know. I’m just saying …

From what I can gather with these sketchy details of the story, the Kirbyville chief of police sounds as if he did quite a job to help that man and deserves praise for his efforts. Perhaps his city might reward him by buying him a defibrillator for his car, at the very least.

Yes, there are a lot of questions remaining, even though tongues are, figuratively, wagging over the length of time it took for an ambulance to reach the victim. But there are plenty of answers still waiting to be discovered such as why weren’t first responders there within a decent time interval with the equipment and drugs that might have kept the man alive and stable? I will leave this up to the local media to answer these questions since I don’t have time, nor do I foresee anyone paying me to solve these puzzles.

Like probably millions of other busybodies I am, at the moment, caught up in the whole David Letterman scandal. My interest is that it is a compelling story involving a high-dollar blackmail plot against a very unique entertainer whom I happen to like.

Also grabbing my attention is the fact that the guy who allegedly tried to extort $2 million out of Letterman over the star having sex with co-workers, Robert Haldeman, is himself an Emmy-winning television producer. Information from an arrest warrant for the man also says that the suspect lived at one time with one of the women with whom Letterman was having an affair. That woman, Stephanie Birkitt, has been seen many times on “Late Night With David Letterman.” Birkitt — who hosted Winter Olympic coverage on the show in 2002 and 2006,  is not accused of any crimes. It appears just to be a pawn in the alleged blackmail.

I have no feelings one way or the other about any who are involved in this saga, at least from the standpoint of their involvement or non-involvement. I think Letterman was smart to get out in front of this. I always thought Birkitt was cute and funny cast as a faux airhead. I actually thought she would one day go somewhere in show business.

The problem with this type of story is we will get sick of it because it will be cussed and discussed ad nauseum as the media has a propensity for dead horse beating. The reason is that the media, in most cases correctly, assumes the public always wants more of a great story especially one involving celebrities. Another factor is that the media is lazy. It is easier to continue milking a story for every last drop than crawling around out in the trenches looking for news.

So I guess I will enjoy the story until it starts getting on my nerves. When it comes to news, one must know when to say when.

 Show me a serial bank robber these days and I will likely find you some strange nickname made up for that person or persons.

 I don’t know whether these names come from the FBI agent who serves as media liaison in the larger division offices or whether the bureau has a computer that generates monikers in the way random generators do on some Web sites. Needless to say, some of these which I found today while looking through the FBI’s Houston Division press releases were amusing.

 The prize goes to the “Sweatin’ to the Oldies Bandit.”

 Actually, the alleged bank robber reminds me more of an overweight and unmasked Klaatu

 from “The Day the Earth Stood Still” than some Richard Simmons devotee. Hi-ho Silver (above) robbed two Houston banks in late August within less than an hour’s time. No idle hands here.

 FBI agents are as well on the look for another busy bank robber, this one dubbed “The Grandma Bandit.” Now I would be willing to bet this “grandma” would have appreciated a more flattering nickname.

On Friday Granny allegedly robbed two banks — both Compass Banks — in a time span of about an hour. What’s with these fast robberies? I guess that like a rolling stone, these bandits don’t care to gather any moss, or coppers.

 

 Finally, I think the FBI were scraping the bottom of the barrel coming up with this name, The Déjà Vu Bandit.

 Weird.

 As cliches go it isn’t bad: “Opinions are like a**holes everybody’s got one.”

 Surely that is not as absolute as it seems for surely someone for some reason or the other is missing an a-hole and some unfortunate is bound to have more than one as in the accompanying cliche: “He/she/it ripped me a new a**hole.”

 Such an orfice might be an unusual introduction to a critique of Jay Leno’s new primetime TV show were it not for the fact that the human a-hole, Kanye West, was a guest on Leno’s first-ever last night. Jay, the Chin Man, Leno racked up a variety of critiques overnight elucidating the good, bad and ugly of his escape from early late-night. There is too much for me to pick and choose and link. Start with Google News if you need someone to get your link up.

 This I will say about the first primetime Leno. Yee-awwwn. That’s actually an extended yawn.

 Nothing differed last night on the new Leno show from his routines off the old one. If it works, why fix it? Because it doesn’t work, Jay. It hasn’t worked in a long time. I like only so much of Jaywalking. Now they do a take-off on the local high school football extra on Friday nights where a ditzy cheerleader or acne-eaten seventh-grader gets asked the meaning of “facemask” but fails to answer the question. It is barely funny when a professional comedian like Leno does it but it sucks royally when attempted by a bored local small-market sportscaster and an assortment of clueless high school-junior high students.

 Even Jerry Seinfeld fell flat. Not because he is, rather because Leno was uninspiring. The skit with Seinfeld interviewing Oprah on screen was about the funniest piece.

 And Kanye West? If I had a pet ego I’d shave it’s ass and name it Kanye West.

 Enough said?

Blogger’s note: This is an experiment in Trans-Pacific writing between Dick in Texas and Paul in Tokyo. I think Paul’s contributions were before a 4.8 earthquake struck. Nonetheless, if things are shaky, blame them on Paul.

Everybody’s talking at me
I don’t hear a word they’re saying
Only the echoes of my mind — Fred Neil

In a tent, Archie Bunker is noiselessly chewing out Festus Hagan. Marshal Dillion strides into the scene, both thumbs in his gun belt, and everyone seems relieved. Jump cut to a loud feminine hygiene commercial: Marsha is evangelical about her pads. Fight, flight, or freeze?

I bolt for the door, and scramble into my clunker. I do not care where I go, as long as I can wrap myself in some semblance of solitude … wrap myself into … a burrito. Hank Williams Sr., is on the radio at the Super Duper Mart. “Take These Chains From My Heart” is, at least, subdued, though there would be no guarantees were I to snag a threesome of 40-ounce Bulls.

Standing in front of the frozen burritos, I can’t help think of the character in “Escape Route,” one of the three shorts in Rod Serling’s “Night Gallery,” who begged to escape into a painting of a solitary man fishing in a small boat in the middle of a lake.

The Super Duper Mart is devoid of art. So, what the hell. Get me into the burrito. Get me into the burrito.

Still, noise is information and it occasionally offers context. Without noise made by announcers, who would have known that an odd but nasty-looking block executed by geezer Minnesota Vikings quarterback Brett Favre was both dangerous and illegal enough to possibly warrant a fine from the league.

Houston Texans cornerback Eugene Wilson certainly didn’t need someone to tell him what happened. He just wished someone could have told him why it happened.

“What was up with that?” he asked the Associated Press after the game. “Seriously, what was up with that?”

Seriously.

Sometimes there is no noise and we have to wait for Paul Harvey moments to get the rest of the story. It took a decade for us to hear that Pirates hurler Doc Ellis pitched a no-no against the Padres on June 12, 1970 while tripping on LSD.

Ellis was considered then somewhat of a wild man. However, stand Doc up against the likes of Michael Vick, Plaxico Burress, or Ron Artest, and Doc starts to look positively like a motivational speaker. The most famous acid trip in baseball history was, Ellis later said, an oversight. He was getting high with his friends in Los Angeles when his girlfriend reminded him he had to pitch. Ellis thought he was off that night, one of the world’s greatest understatements.

Ellis said:

“I was zeroed in on the (catcher’s) glove, but I didn’t hit the glove too much. I remember hitting a couple of batters and the bases were loaded two or three times. The ball was small sometimes, the ball was large sometimes, sometimes I saw the catcher, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I tried to stare the hitter down and throw while I was looking at him. I chewed my gum until it turned to powder. I started having a crazy idea in the fourth inning that Richard Nixon was the home plate umpire, and once I thought I was pitching a baseball to Jimi Hendrix, who to me was holding a guitar and swinging it over the plate.”

John Milton wrote:

Come, and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastick toe.
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;

Richard Milhous Nixon admitted:

“I don’t know a lot about politics, but I know a lot about baseball.”

Jimi Hendrix sang:

“Lord knows I’m a Voodoo child, baby.”

Wikipedia says:

“Noise can block, distort, change or interfere with the meaning of a message in both human and electronic communication.”

The morning is bright and busy and clear. Click. Funny dotcom commercials. There has to be a shirt in the closet that’s not too wrinkled. Click. This is CNN. What’s on today’s agenda at work? Click. A small plane just hit the World Trade Center. Click. An airliner just flew into the towers. I have to go to work. Freeze. There’s a senseless cacophony of noise to interpret. Click. More than 300 FDNY firefighters are dead. Click. A jet hit the Pentagon. Click. A commercial airliner has crashed in Pennsylvania.

Click. “Be advised. I see midway up World Trade Center Tower, heavy black smoke coming out,” says a radio transmission from a firefighter to FDNY dispatch 9/11/01.

My editor tells me to go up to the Bush Ranch gate — outside the president’s ranch between Waco and Austin — and get comments. The last time the president had been seen he was reading “The Pet Goat” to school kids in Florida. Now the editor  wants me to ask for comments from nervous Texas highway troopers and deputies who never signed up to protect the president’s ranch, whether he was there or not.

What is up with that? Seriously, what is up with that?

Click. “You have help on the way,” a FDNY dispatcher tells a trapped firefighter in World Trade Center Tower 1. “There is help on the way.” Click. Click. And more clicks.

What day is this? I haven’t heard an airplane all day. It is way too silent. The world is wrapped in quiet like a convenience store frozen burrito waiting to be microwaved.