Kickass, the doorstop dog, says if journalists were dogs they would bark at the moon, chase cars and mark their territory with Kool-aid, maybe spiked with a little vodka. Having lived with the skeletal remains and the cranial cavity of a journalist lo these many years, Kickass continues to puzzle over a journalists motivation and self image, especially in light of the Wash. Press party last Saturday.
Journalists are, in a way, like children running about and shouting, “Look at this! Listen to this! Here’s what you should know!” Like puppies yapping for attention. Their noise-making abilities often far outweigh their societal significance, not in their minds, of course, but as a practical matter.
However–resisting the impulse to go to CAPS, Kickass says if it were not for journalists we would all be living in an undiapered world with crap all over everything, and the dung beetles would rule more than they already do. (The keeper says it is not necessary to apologize for a scatological metaphor, and if he says it, it is the truth because that is the way of journalists, even old, burned-out ones.)