No Longer the Alliteration Station?

Over a couple of beers at the Pour House tonight (ah, irony), my friends and I were talking about the doomed local media scene. One friend pointed out a very disturbing trend I had not noticed until it was mentioned.

Channel 7 has cut way back on its use of alliteration.

That's like. . . Boston magazine cutting back on its high-end lifestyle reporting. Or the Globe cutting back on lifeless lifestyle pieces. Or the Herald cutting back on conservative ire. It is just a move to deny its true identity, and should therefore not be done.

For example: The News Station is leading its reports about the ongoing mess north of Boston with the headline "Ice Storm." Bo-ring. How about "Staying Warm After the Storm?" "Ice Isn't Nice?"

Surely the station's crack team of writers could come up with something more—wait for it—compelling than "Ice Storm"? Or have the alliterative geniuses all been laid off as the media economy continues its downward spiral?

The Seal Station

I had my television tuned to WHDH as I was preparing to leave the house for trivia night. I use the station as a kind of background noise, really only paying attention when the weather comes on.

As I zipped up my boots around 4:30, the inanity of one particular story started to creep into my consciousness. (I preface this with the disclaimer that I wasn't paying complete attention to the item, and that the clip won't load on my computer for some reason, so some of the details may be a little off.) I started paying attention when I noticed Channel 7 had decided to trot out the breathless "JUST ONE STATION" logo.

For a story about a seal on a beach.

It would have been one thing if the story was a quick 30-second item that none of Channel 7's competitors elected not to pick up. But it just. kept. going.

There were interviews with eyewitnesses, who essentially told Byron Barnett that the seal rolled one way, then rolled back the other way. Children were delighted. Then Barnett chased the animal's rescuers down the beach as they carried the seal off the sand for observation. One made a snippy remark about how all the attention made it hard to save the animal, but Barnett wouldn't let their disdain keep him from the 4:30 show's big story.

I appreciate the cuteness of marine life as much as the next person, but the world has bigger problems than a little seal who couldn't manage to get himself off the beach. Unless we're using this as a metaphor for the continuing erosion of capitalism as we know it. Somehow, I doubt that was the intention.

Stormy Weather

Dear Channel 7's 7-day forecast,

Go die in a fire.

Piss off,
Amy

This shit ain't right. I have a four-day weekend this weekend. I start my new gig on Tuesday. Marathon Monday is my favorite holiday of the whole year. Seriously. No need to buy expensive gifts, no cards, no sense of familial duty, no religious connotations. Just a reason to have a day out of the office on a fledgling spring day, the ability to watch a Sox day game in the comfort of your own home (or Local), a reason to start drinking at 10am, the putt-putt-putt-putt of helicopters hovering over Beacon Street, the cheering of little kids and psyched adults as the first wheelchair racer comes by, then the elite male runners, then the elite females, then the droves of regular joes running for charity or their own goals, with marriage proposals scrawled across their arms, pushing through muscle cramps and bleeding nipples, the crowd cheering them to keep moving, keep going.

But no. This year, many of the regular-guy runners will just decide to stay home and watch the Sox since it's going to be about 40 degrees and rainy. Many of the spectators will just stay inside and root the runners on from their couches. The fun, as-close-to-Mardi-Gras-as-Boston-gets atmosphere will be dimmed. All the winter we missed in December has been tacked onto the end of April. When I need the sun on my shoulders most, Ma Nature decides to have the rain come down. What if the Sox get rained out? What will I do all day? It's not as fun to get drunk to Ellen or reruns of the Cosby Show. I guess I'll just hunker down in my friend's covered stoop and watch the miserable marathoners slog down Beacon Street along a sparsely populated route.

Whatever. I'm still going to enjoy my little break. Friday I am going to babysit and get my hair cut. Saturday, I am going to sleep in, sit on my fat ass and watch Phantom Gourmet (Am I the only one who has a deep, disturbing crush on Dave Andleman?), bake some complicated strawberry cupcakes, dye my hair, and go out to dinner. Sunday, I'm staying at a fancy-pants hotel downtown to give myself a relatively inexpensive change of scene. Monday, despite Mother Nature's best attempts, I am going to watch the Marathon. I will stand in the freezing rain in my big ugly winter coat I swore I'd not wear again until late 2007, beer in hand, yelling my fool head off for the dedicated and crazy souls who still come out to run. It's the least I can do for them.

Everybody Get Random

Here's the thing. It doesn't matter if you have a job if you're dead.

This may be the weirdest, awesomest, stupidest thing I've seen all week.



That's all I've got. Have a great weekend, y'all.

Hot Times in the City

If I may delve into water-cooler talk a little bit here...

Where is winter? I love warm weather but this shit is ridiculous. It's the second week of January and we've only had trace elements of snow. While I don't relish snow, I do like snow football, sledding, the carte blanche to be late to work, the hush it gives the City, and the fact that I can bitch about something other than the T. Depending on who you ask, there are many factors that could be causing this. The woman I babysit for called this year a "statistical anomaly." Al Gore thinks it's the global warming he's been trying to stop with his pie charts. I personally take the moderate route out and think it's part global warming, part just a warm winter thus far. (I'll take bets on it snowing about 20 feet when I have to move out of my apartment at the end of the month. Winner gets to help me find stray dogs to act as my dogsled team.)

The Globe has a great opinion piece today by a media critic named Monica Collins that accuses the local news media of playing dumb on the fact that this weather is really out of the ordinary and not mentioning the possibility of global warming. Of course, she rags on my boy Pete Bouchard a little bit, but even I have been screaming at the TV. "For the love of God, man, can we at least discuss the possibility that the ocean could flood the rats out of my apartment at any time? I AM AFRAID, PETE!"

Some choice highlights (I would tell Ms. Collins to tone down the Big Words a little, but that's just me)...

By design, the weathercast is a temperate zone, a bastion of prognosticative bromides [WTF?] without any controversy. Weatherpeople tell you to watch out for drizzle during the morning commute. This has been the extent of their cautionary role. They are promotional tools, teasing their forecasts throughout prime time. They are encouraged to chat chummily with the anchorpeople in calm periods and go into full froth during blizzards, thunderstorms, and other disturbances. Each local TV meteorologist presents the image of a weather jockey who loves the ride in severe conditions. ...

In these times, you do need a weatherman to tell which way the wind is blowing. TV meteorologists are uniquely positioned to make sense of what's happening outside our windows. They have the tools to put the weather into climatic context. With global warming an omnipresent threat, their role becomes more crucial.

Come on, Pete. Don't let that Ken Barlow jerk make you look a fool. Teach us the ways of climate change, O Bald Chief Meterologist, and how we may look to change things now before the bar graphs become more disturbing.

Just One Station...

Lately over on good ol' Universal Hub, there's been a lot of discussion about the demerits of Channel 7. And while I very much enjoy my vitriol towards some of their newscasters ("Shut up, Lorch!") and love of others ("Hiiiiii, Peeeeete!"), I watch Channel 7 fairly frequently. After all the hate for Channel 7 lately, I started to think about why I watch Channel 7 at all.

The obvious answer is that Pete Bouchard is on Channel 7 and he's just swell. I also get my information on the weather from television. I occasionally scan the Globe's weather page, but I find it easier to get information for a local TV channel with the radar. TV weather is also more up-to-date. Perhaps not any more correct, but I feel like I know more after watching TV weather. ("The white blobs are almost out of here, which means it's almost done snowing. I'd better get on my snowpants and go sledding now.") And, like all native New Englanders, I love weather cut-ins during a big snowstorm. I know it's snowing, but I like thinking about how much snow we'll get, how close the weather forecasters were, and when it's going to end. I love the sense of safe panic. (Where is the fecking snow?! Colorado can suck it.)

I think it all boils down to the fact that I don't watch the news for news. Local news is only a half-hour long (the four hours of news Channel 7 airs every afternoon is basically the same newscast over and over) and there is no possible way to know everything that's going on locally in that short time. What all local newscasts are is entertainment. Occasionally, some really amazing investigative reporting happens, such as at Channel 10 in Rhode Island, and affects some change. Generally, however, local news is for entertainment only. Car crashes, train wrecks, evacuated airport terminals, the figure of Mary/Jesus/Satan in food, political speeches, Hollywood dalliances, movie reviews, basic outlining of consumer rights by consumer reporters, weather, sports highlights, thanks for watching, goodnight. When I want news, I read a newspaper or internet news sources. When I want to be entertained, I watch Channel 7. And, despite all the haters, Channel 7 does an amazing job at entertaining viewers. Flashy graphics, attractive anchorpeople, dramatic writing, the deep-voiced announcer guy-- it sates our base desire for salacious "news." If I had my druthers, I'd get my news from Channel 10 in Rhode Island, but Channel 7 is my Boston favorite.

The haters can hate. It's not perfect, but I love Channel 7.


Old school.