I know, I know. You all think I’m a schmuck for taking a few days off during the holidays. Ok, already. The holidays were, so, like, four days ago. But guess what – yer lookin’ at this now, aren’t you, suckas.
Yeah, I’ve got a little catching up to do. So do you. Read on…
Runaway lied?
All week, WLOSers have been covering some so-called runaway, a 13-year-old from Brevard supposedly spirited away by her redneck uncle. Brevard police stepped in it by issuing what they called an “amber alert” even though, but by state law, the case did not meet the requirements for the specialized alert.
Then WLOSers dogged the girl’s granny, a mustachioed meemaw worried to death about her gran-baby. She begged the teen to call. When she did call once, granny couldn’t make it to the phone in time to answer. Another time, the girl called and said she was in Tennessee, when cops knew damn well Uncle Festus had carried the girl down to sunny Florida.
WLOS moved on to other family members, setting on their old couches, who said Uncle Festus had been jail for minor shit, but had never gone “big time” like this.
The story mercifully ended Thursday when Florida police announced they’d found the uncle and girl staying at what Larry “Old Glory” Blunt called an “employment camp,” whatever the hell that is. WLOS kept showing video apparently shot from a tall building or helicopter, but you couldn’t see anything.
Granny was beside herself with joy and relief. “Oh, law, this is the best day I’ve had in… This is the best day, law, I’ve had since…” Since when, granny? Since you bought that Liberace 8-track back in ’79? Since Richard Petty autographed your breast in ’83?
Thursday soapbox
The Bluntman introduced the usual soapbox feature, which gave us people bitching. What’s your pet peeve, the camera guy asked. People complained about traffic, drivers not using turn signals and drivers moving slow in the passing lane. A smoker complained about smokers.
Then one old toothless ‘tard took a seat and said he didn’t had a thing to complain about. He basically sat there and said he was so dumb he didn’t have a thing to gripe about, then laughed and said, “Don’t you want to be me?”
Tammy, the magician
What exactly was Tallahasee Tammy Watford wearing Thursday? She had on a black suit jacket with electric pink lapels wider than Victoria Dunkel’s butt. You gonna pull a rabbitt out of the hat for us, Tammy? Retire that hideous clown suit and look like the professional news infotainment reader that you are, child.
Speaking of Tammy, she accused Sports Stan of calling someone at the anchor desk a whale, but I’m not quite sure who. She tried to joke it off, but I think she was offended.
Le, the music historian
Jon “Punnyman” Le continued his string of Reports on Music Nobdoy Gives a Crap About by profiling a music class at the local Jewish community center. The klezmer music enthusiasts dusted off their little guitars and accordians and jammed to some medieval Jewish folk music.
Yawn. Le didn’t even throw in a juicy pun to liven things up.
Le, the negotiator
Despite Thursday night’s yawner, Le did give us some quality noise on Tuesday. It was a classic report, one that we’ve been enjoying all week.
Le informed us that a fugitive, wanted for murder in Florida and thought to be hiding in Western North Carolina, had called him to help negotiate his surrender. Le said the fugitive wanted TV cameras on the scene because the wanted man “feared for his life.”
Le obliged, and thus started the Jon “The Negotiator” Le mini-movie. First, we see hardcore Le horse-trading with the suspect on the phone, as the cops sit helplessly by while a Will Farrell wannabe does their frackin’ job. “Yes. They’re telling me they’re guaranteeing your safety. Now where are you gonna be?” an earnest Le fires into the phone. “You want fries with that?”
Next, we see ticklish Le giggling as serious lawmen strap him into a a bulletproof vest. The negotiator must be protected, you see. Who knows – the cops might need to send him in with a cup of coffee to talk down the crazed maniac one more time. Le’s clearly enjoying all the attention.
Finally, we see Le and the cops, with machine guns at the ready, pull up to an overlook to find a big fat redneck standing on top of a picnic table. They force him down, cuff him and are preparing to take him in.
“Are you not entertained?!” he growls into Le’s camera. The fugitive laughs at his own joke. “Hey guys, that’s from ‘Gladiator.’ You know that shit?” The fat man informs Le that he had a “last meal” at Fat Buddies barbecue in Franklin or someplace. “I’ve been charged and acquitted like 12 times in my life, man. This ain’t over. This is just the beginning,” he tells Le’s camera.
All Le can say, over and over, is: “Didja doit? Didja doit? Didja doit?”
It was a classic tale, all told with Le hardly able to control himself. The question remains, though – why did the redneck call Le?
4 Comments
The Franklin Press had the story http://www.thefranklinpress.com/articles/2006/01/09/news/news01.txt and didn’t even give the punster props.
Regular Lee all about himself and not the convict. Do you think he called John or just WLOS and John was sent on the story. Also what was all that rambeling he did with Tammy, basically basically basically over and over
"The question remains, though – why did the redneck call Le?"
My guess is that the guy probably didn’t specifically call John. But since John is one of the few reporters who’ll actually do a call pick-up on a ringing assignment desk phone, he was the lucky one who got took the call and the story.
Sucka here. You need a ? at the end of that sentence? Also, next paragraph, "by" state law, or but "by" state law.
NASCAR drivers will autograph your breasts? Ouch.