Wednesday, January 30, 2008

RSV- Nothing To Take Lightly

Thank God, my grandaughter Sarah is better.  She spent the eleventh week of her life at Children's Hospital recovering from RSV.  I didn't know a lot about RSV then.  I do now.  It's a nasty bug that can make children pitifully sick.  Here's what the Centers For Disease Control's Infectious Disease People say about it on its website:


Respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) is the most common cause of bronchiolitis and pneumonia among infants and children under 1 year of age. Illness begins most frequently with fever, runny nose, cough, and sometimes wheezing. During their first RSV infection, between 25% and 40% of infants and young children have signs or symptoms of bronchiolitis or pneumonia, and 0.5% to 2% require hospitalization. Most children recover from illness in 8 to 15 days. The majority of children hospitalized for RSV infection are under 6 months of age. RSV also causes repeated infections throughout life, usually associated with moderate-to-severe cold-like symptoms; however, severe lower respiratory tract disease may occur at any age, especially among the elderly or among those with compromised cardiac, pulmonary, or immune systems.


Sarah was very, very sick.  The people at Children's- all of them -were exceptional in their care. And I don't see how they do it- it's tough to listen to the little hoarse cries of a sick child.  As I have said before, I've seen some pretty tough things in my life.  But I still can hardly stand to see a suffering child. Sarah is improving and will probably be succeptable to colds for a while.  I understand there is a kind of vaccine available for RSV, but it's expensive.  I wonder if the insurance company executives get it for their children.

This week, I have been struggling through some kind of crud, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was a form of RSV. Maybe FGRSV..Fat Guy RSV.  And I wonder if one of a zillion tiny little coughs somewhere passed it along to me. It's nothing glamorous..just a snotty nose, congestion and all kinds of misery. Hallerin and I have considered buying one of those little teapot instruments to pour some hot poltice into our noses.  I don't know about you, but a teapot spout up my nose is a little more than I need right now.

I used about a quart of Afrin.  Have you ever calculated the cost of Afrin per gallon?  I did.  Let's say you buy the generic, or get the real deal on sale for five dollars per ounce.  There are 128 ounces in a gallon. That makes Afrin figure up to a whopping $640 dollars an ounce. Along with that,I invested in a saline spray that is half the price of nasal decongestant. It doesn't make me feel any better that salt water in a plastic bottle sells for $320 dollars an ounce. And I just got a prescription for some stuff that will cost ME $20 for a half-ounce, and no telling what the insurance company pays per gallon.  Plus, I got another prescription that would cost around a hundred bucks if I didn't have good insurance. 

At the doctor's office today, I heard that a lot of people are dealing with the same thing.  They have also probably bought a hundred bucks worth of over-the-counter nostrums...just like I did before I decided to give in and as they say in the TV commercial "consult my healthcare professional" and get some stuff that works. 

The nurses also said a couple of people came in with the real flu today.  Lots of people think they have the flu.  But unless you feel like you have been run over by a manure truck, kicked in the belly by a linebacker, and force fed a live weasel- trust me, it ain't the flu.

My advice to you grown ups who think you can lick most any illness with over the counter stuff..listen to the Viagra commercial. Use the four-hour rule.  If your crud lasts four hours or longer...see your "health care professional".


Posted by Dave Foulk at 16:46:58 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |

Sunday, January 27, 2008

My WNOX Morning Photos

People have different ideas about how it really looks inside the studio, and what re really look like. I took a few photos that might give you a better idea:
This is me- on the air. Please note the puffy eyes and well developed double chin.


This is the hallway where the studios are located. My studio is the second one down (you can tell it by the second little On-Air light above the door. The next door is Chris Marion's studio. And the door facing the camera at the end of the hall is the Talk Studio where Hallerin Works. You have to keep this hallway clear around five and five-thirty- because Hallerin and Chris will come barrelling in at the last minute. I get to work about four-thirty.




This is Chris Marion in his studio. He handles all of the production in the show, and controls the commercials and telephones, plus screens the calls. Chris is one of the best at his job I have ever seen. Period. He deals with three, sometimes four computer screens. One shows Hallerin which callers are on-line, the one with the color squares contains all of the program elements and commercials. Plus, Chris has a laptop with a zillion songs on it.



This is my control board. You can see where the meter on the left was removed by engineering for repair. I didn't want to look at an empty hole all day long, so I mounted a fire engine picture in its place. The black square on the left is a timer, and there is another timer on my right, plus a clock. Chris says engineering might as well take the timers out, too.



I have one program that is very important. It handles my wire services, internet, script writing, recording, and teleprompter (which you see in this photo from last week). I can play recorded audio clips by clicking on a mouse, or by tapping the space bar.



This is the view from my seat. through one double-pane glass into Chris Marion's studio, then through a second double pane glass into Hallerin's studio. We have a telephone intercom we can use to talk to one another. But mainly, Chris and I just yell through the window.


Here's Hallerin in his main studio, doing what he does best. He dresses like this every day. I wonder if he sleeps in a suit and tie.



This is my little cubicle in the corner of the newsroom.



This is Hallerin's office door. I am not allowed inside unless I am invited in. He won't let me touch his stuff, either.



Hope you enjoyed the photos. I'll try to get some more interesting ones from the station and post them, soon.

Posted by Dave Foulk at 18:23:12 | Permanent Link | Comments (7) |

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Slidin' Thru The Hollers Like They Do Up North

If I hear another northerner tell me that we hillbillies don't know how to drive, I'm gonna sit on 'em and make them eat cornbread without sugar and soup beans with seasoning meat.

 It was bedlam this morning. Tens of thousands of dollars in damage to vehicles, and who-knows-how-much in road workers, materials and equipment cost to help clear the roads. And horribly, at least two people who left their homes this morning will never return. And here's something to consider: There were plenty of fall injuries this morning with broken arms, legs, and hips that will take weeks of recovery.
This morning, east Tennessee had nature's form of a sneak attack. The streets had been chilled with very low temperatures in the past few days. Then this morning the air temperature hovered around 28 to 30 degrees- just right for ice. The kind of ice that forms in the tiny crevices of the pavement so that it doesn't make a tell-tale reflection. It's the kind of ice that can quickly make a road slicker than snot on a Popsicle. And driver's won't know it until they look out the windshield and see the headlights of the car driving behind them, and oncoming traffic in their rear view mirror.

It doesn't matter whether you grew up in Sopchoppy, Florida, Smoky Junction, Tennessee, or Bratwurst, Wisconsin, when the interface between the tire and the roadway is interrupted by a layer of ice, you are going to slide. I saw a videotape of a military tank sliding on an icy road in Germany- a perfect illustration that slick is slick no matter what you are driving. And a northerner was probably driving the tank. If they weren't, there was one somewhere inside the machine saying "We don't drive our tanks like this up north."

There are only so many degrees of incline, decline, or banking in a curve that any vehicle can take when the road is iced over like the inside of a 1950 Kelvinator. In ice- 60 MPH to 0 MPH is the premier performance specification. The only thing I have seen that gives you any help is a computerized system that thinks faster than a driver. Even a driver from up-north.

I've heard some reporters this afternoon sound almost hopeful this stuff will re-freeze and cause even more problems tonight and in the morning. Maybe they will find work in Frozen Butt, North Dakota.


Posted by Dave Foulk at 16:24:21 | Permanent Link | Comments (3) |

Monday, January 21, 2008

A Frightening Time And Some Advice For Children

This day, in 1989, I thought I was going to die.  I thought counter-demonstrators were going to rush the crowd, overwhelm the police guard, and tear into the group of reporters and eight racists marching through downtown Atlanta.  The demonstration was planned by Richard Barrett, who claimed he would draw a thousand people to march with him to protest the Martin Luther King Junior holiday.  He got seven others to go with him - and a small army of police, guard members, and law officers from all over the state to escort him.

The march would start and end at the Georgia State Capital Building.  The route would take Barrett right through downtown and the five points area.  Nobody knew exactly what would happen, but Doug Rink and I were assigned to cover it with live updates and interviews for WSB Radio.

Before the protest march started, Doug and I decided to split our efforts.  One of us would stay inside the police cadre, and the other would stay outside their perimiter, free to roam and cover reaction and anything else that might happen outside the march itself. We each carried tape recorders and walkie-talkies and cell telephones to use in filing the reports.  I also took a small police scanner and an earpiece to try to monitor what officers were seeing along the way.

Barrett is a Vietnam veteran, born in New York, lives in the deep south.  He got a degree from Rutgers and Memphis State, and is a lawyer. If you want to know more about Barrett, I would suggest Google.  There' plenty to find on the internet, both supporting and deriding him.

Long before the scheduled time of the march, anti-demonstrators had showed up to chant and taunt the few who had showed up to march in favor of white supremacy.  When the march started, the counter-demonstrators seemed to gain new energy and volume.  They were shadowing Barrett and his escort. 

The march went past the construction site for the World Of Coca Cola, and some other improvements near Underground Atlanta. That's where the anti-demonstrators loaded up on ammo.  There were plenty of rocks at the construction site...some a little bit bigger than eggs, and some about the size of softballs--about as big as a normal person could heave.  And they did.

Suddenly, a law officer yelled "Inoming!"  I was carrying a shotgun microphone trying to get some natural sound, so I looked over my shoulder and up to the sky..to see dozens of rocks raining down.  The march kept going.  Counter-demonstrators kept shadowing the march...rocks falling all around.  Police formed a tighter escort around Barrett and picked up the pace a bit. As we neared downtown..crowds ran into a multi-story parking garage and used the altitude advantage to drop more rocks, bottles, and anything else they could pry loose.

The law officers had trained for this kind of stuff.  had it not been for that training, the entire group of marchers would have been overwhelmed and in a big fight. As it turned out, several rocks came scarily close to bonking me on the head.  Others bounced off the pavement and hit my legs and feet. I saw fear in the faces on some of the law officers, but they never flinched in their duty.  And any reporter inside that police cordon who was not scared spitless - at least for a little while- was a poor judgement of what they call situational awareness.


It was not my first time to see race-hate.  I had covered other confrontations, and even federal trials of members of the Klan who allegedly attacked a man and a woman.  But that was the first time I had -ever- been in peril simply because of an argument over skin color. Amazing. 

Thousands and thousands of dollars spent to protect a man who showed hate for people who weren't the same color as him. Law officers formed a human shield to make sure he could exercise his right to free speech, no matter how hateful or hurtful that speech could be.

And on the other side, I saw the visceral reaction to that marching man.  With each rock- a bit of hate and despite for what he stood for.  And the law of civility and the law of man was no match for that deep reaction to the march, and the affront to people of color by the eight marchers.

It was no field day for Doug Rink, either.  He was whacked by a flying bottle.  And at a later rally, I was chased and cornered by some racists, apparently Klan members.  Were it not for another man who stepped up to show I was not along, I might have been pounded to apple butter.

Hate is a powerful thing.  Very powerful.  Fortunately, we are for the most part a civil society that does not live by the rule of the flying rock, or the sniper hiding, waiting to take a life.  The United States is better than that.



************************************************************************
Now, as per my friend, Hallerin Hilton Hill- here are the ten things kids won't learn in school:



. You got it from your parents, who said it so often you decided they must be the most idealistic generation ever. When they started hearing it from their own kids, they realized Rule #1.

Rule #2. The real world won't care as much about your self-esteem as your school does. It'll expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself. This may come as a shock. Usually, when inflated self-esteem meets reality, kids complain that it's not fair. (See Rule No. 1)

Rule #3. Sorry, you won't make $50,000 a year right out of high school. And you won't be a vice president or have a car phone either. You may even have to wear a uniform that doesn't have a Gap label.

Rule #4. If you think your teacher is tough, wait 'til you get a boss. He doesn't have tenure, so he tends to be a bit edgier. When you screw up, he is not going ask you how feel about it.

Rule #5. Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping. They called it opportunity. They weren't embarrassed making minimum wage either. They would have been embarrassed to sit around talking about Kurt Cobain all weekend.

Rule #6. It's not your parents' fault. If you screw up, you are responsible. This is the flip side of "It's my life," and "You're not the boss of me," and other eloquent proclamations of your generation. When you turn 18, it's on your dime. Don't whine about it or you'll sound like a baby boomer.

Rule #7. Before you were born your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way paying your bills, cleaning up your room and listening to you tell them how idealistic you are. And by the way, before you save the rain forest from the blood-sucking parasites of your parents' generation try delousing the closet in your bedroom.

Rule #8. Life is not divided into semesters, and you don't get summers off. Nor even Easter break. They expect you to show up every day. For eight hours. And you don't get a new life every 10 weeks. It just goes on and on.

Rule #9. Television is not real life. Your life is not a sitcom. Your problems will not all be solved in 30 minutes, minus time for commercials. In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop to go to jobs. Your friends will not be perky or as polite as Jennifer Aniston.

Rule #10. Be nice to nerds. You may end up working for them. We all could.

Rule #11. Enjoy this while you can. Sure, parents are a pain, school's a bother, and life is depressing. But someday you'll realize how wonderful it was to be kid. Maybe you should start now.







Posted by Dave Foulk at 08:26:27 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Friday, January 18, 2008

Why So Many Bank Robberies ?

The large number of recent bank holdups in Knoxville is enough to worry anybody in the teller business. Customers' deposits are federally insured, so they don't lose anything. Sooner or later, someone working at a bank is going to get hurt during a holdup. The odds of that happening increase with each new stick-up.

Word has apparently leaked onto the street about which banks use dye packs and which ones don't. Dye packs are explosive devices hidden in what is called "bait money" that a teller can stuff into a robber's bag. I don't exactly know their inner workings, except that the charge is timed to go off in a certain amount of time, allowing for the robber to be out of the bank when the explosive charge sends money flying, and dye all over the crook.

They are a sight to see sometimes. Once, I reported on a bank holdup where the dye pack went off inside a speeding car, sending purple bills all over the street in front of some very surprised pedestrians. One FBI man I knew says he caught a robber that had concealed his loot in an inside jacket pocket. When the dye pack went off, it burned the robber to his ribs.

I understand that dye packs are expensive. And I can imagine what would happen if one were accidentally armed inside a bank. But it seems to me that some financial institutions might have to make a corporate decision to take some active steps to deter holdups. That might include armed guards inside or outside of the bank.

One of the most effective deterents I have ever seen was the stake-out squad. Undercover or concealed officers would stay at a vulnerable location, and confront the robber once they were away from innocent people who might be in the line of fire. Nothing like TV news pictures of a dead robber with currency scattered all around his body to convey the thought that taking other people's possessions might not be a good idea.

Maybe it's desparate finances pushing the increase. But my best bet is that it's the old problem of drug addiction. Or maybe plain-old greed.

Meanwhile, I think I will stick to direct deposit and the drive-thru.

 


 

Posted by Dave Foulk at 19:07:44 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Telephone Shortcuts

This morning, Hallerin talked about some telephone short-cuts that might make your life easier.  Here is the link to the list.  You might have to copy and paste the information in the browser.

http://lifehacker.com/345501/top-10-telephone-tricks

Happy telephoning, and while you are here, I would like to invite you to look over some of my blog entries. Your comments are always welcome.  
Posted by Dave Foulk at 06:52:26 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

My Imaginary Garage

There used to be a television show called "The Millionaire". Some very rich man would send his represenative to surprise a deserving person with a check for a million dollars. That was when the dollar was worth...oh, twelve cents. Now, since the dollar is worth about twelve Easter Island shell coins, the show would have to be titled "The Hundred Millionaire".

If somehow, fiction turned to true-life, and I got a visit and a check for a fortune, I would pay off some debts, set the kids up with a comfortable income, take care of mama and anything she wanted...then I would head down to the car dealer.

My friend Hallerin Hilton Hill asked me to come up with my favorites from the North American Auto Show, so I have been perusing some photos and reading up on the various cars and trucks that I might consider during my imaginary shopping trip. It was a fun exercise.

One thing I learned about myself: I found myself thinking about fuel efficiency and hybrid power. For about ten seconds. People who have plenty of money and a love for performance will always pay the price for a gallon of motion lotion. But I had to assume that even I ...a new member of the elite and moneyed ... might run out of spare change or forget my American Express Black Card and have to think fuel efficiency for a while.

Here goes...with some photos...my favorites.

Number one on my list is this offering from the Ford Truck concept people. It's called the Super Chief, in honor of the design lines of the famous passenger train from the 30's and 40's.




One of the nice things about this truck is the space inside. The floor has wood planks with metal strips in-between that run the length of the vehicle, from the interior to the cargo bed. The roof is nearly see-thru, like the old vista-rail cars. And nothing says truck like the front of this rig. This might not be my daily driver, but it sure would be nice to have when you need to haul some barn dirt or that old matress.

Next, what would likely be my daily driver: The VW Passat CC



Nice lines, understated German design. It says class. And the euro version of this car has a SEVEN speed transmission and a double electronic clutch system. I would have my butler loan me his leg for the left pedal.

Let's get to some weekend rides:


I could play James Bond in this Aston-Martin Vanquish. The company has redesigned this car, and it has a classic look about it, with that touch that says "there could be rocket launchers under those parking lights".

But if I felt the need for speed- this would be the whip I would ask Jeeves to warm up for me:


This is a Bugatti Veyron. It has more than a thousand horsepower...that's right, mama...a thousand horsies under that composite shell waiting to roll. Unless something has rolled along in the past couple of months that I have not heard...this is the fastest production car in the world. It will carry you and one friend along at more than two hundred miles-an-hour. This buggy costs a lot more than three quarters of a million dollars. I found this photo of one that had a really bad day on a wet British Road:



The driver was okay, but his insurance agent suffered from dry heaves for a couple of hours.

 Little cross-over cars were big at the auto show. My favorite was the Ford Verve. The show version was, of course, a lot more spiffy than the production model expected soon. But I really like the interior of this little car....er...truck....uh whatever it is. And it is cool looking, too, so the missus and I could motor down to the local cheese parlor in understated style. I like nice interiors. When you think about it...it's the part of the car you see the most. If you buy a car for exterior looks, you are mostly buying something to entertain someone else.


This is a Bentley. But just to keep my eco-conscious friends from snorting their disapproval...this is a Hybrid Bentley. They expect to cut weight on this dude by making aluminum body sheathing, and power it with an Audi hybrid system. See- Audi and Bentley are married, sort of. I really like that deep red color. Maybe I could finally retire from radio and get that information officer job for the Knoxville Fire Department. For that matter, I could just buy the fire department and put a nifty red LED lightbar on top. Speaking of fire engines:



I would buy every department one of these Seagrave Marauder Rescue trucks. Seagrave has a new technology that can prevent a lot of roll-over accident fatalities. And these are top-of-the-line life saving machines.

Being rich means you can drive a butt-ugly car that costs the light side of a hundred grand:
And you friends will never say..."man, is that one buck toothed stepchild ugly wheel box you got there, Foulk." This looks like a Scion. But it's really a Mercedes G55. I think it is called a Gelandenwagen or some-such. It's an SUV with nearly everything you want. It's meant to last a lifetime. I have seen a couple of them around Knoxville. Neither one had a bumper sticker that said "THIS IS NOT A SCION". But it might have helped.


Like I said before, I like nice interiors. This is the dash of the Audi R8. It can launch you down the highway about as fast as an F-18 off the deck of an aircraft carrier- all the while you passenger saying "that red instrument cluster is the bomb". Look at those long accelerator and clutch pedals for heel-and-toe cornering. I would have about as much chance of pulling that off, as convincing Dena I bought the car for the stereo.



If I had the time, and the car...I would relish being able to cruise Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg in the summertime with my cool ride. Then I could take it up to the mountains where the oversized V-8 could breathe cool mountain air and help keep the Smoky Mountains Smoky. Okay, okay...I know hot rods are not exactly the most envior-friendly machines. But I refused to let go of some of our American Icons. Chevrolet made a dumb decision when it killed off the Camaro line. And now, they realize it, and they've come up with a concept car of a new Camaro. See if you see 1968 styling in this one:



The hard-top is not nearly as sweet looking. One major plus for me: It appears I would be able to get into and out of this car much easier than the cliche'd sports car the Corvette. But being rich, I would be able to hire a crew to follow me around with a bucket of Vaseline and a giant shoe-horn to help me in-and-out of anything I bought.

And finally, I want to show you a retro-designed truck that is about to hit the highways in the U-S. It's a newly designed International. You see definite design cues from the 1939 International truck.




And the neat thing about it....the retro design is more aerodynamic and fuel saving than the flat-fronted semis. Nice.

So there you have it, some of my favorites. But there are many more cars and SUV's that I would not mind having. Since my money is definitely NOT unlimited, I think I'd better stick with my trusty F-150 crew cab... and try to make friends with some folks who don't have to ask "How much will that run me a-month?".

Hallerin...about your convertible...you need it this weekend?
Posted by Dave Foulk at 20:02:05 | Permanent Link | Comments (2) |

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Not Something To Help You Sleep

The FBI behavioral science experts say at any given time there are fifty serial killers on the loose in The United States.  And the U.S. leads the world in the number of serial killers caught in society- nearly eighty percent. Those numbers are enough to give you the creeps right out of the chute.  But there's more.

The people who try to catch them say serial killers will go through an active period where they take lives, then a rest period that can range from years to weeks, or even days.  Serial killers normally do not stalk victims, but victims in some way present themselves to the attacker.  Two examples might be Ted Bundy, the killer who was electrocuted in Florida, but not before he spoke to the behavioral people about his acts.  Bundy said he would often pose as a man with a cast on his arm, or otherwise someone who needed help and then wait until someone came to him.  The Son Of Sam killer opened fire on people who happened to be in cars in the area where he stalked.  Most serial killers start when they are young.  Nearly all of them are white. One thing about serial killers is there are notable exceptions to that profile.

Investigators in Georgia are now talking to law enforcement agencies in at least two states about the man they are holding in connection with the killing of a hiker in the North Georgia mountains.  A couple was killed in North Carolina- her body was found- they never located his remains. Before the ink was dry on the suspect's fingerprint card, there was already speculation that the death of the young girl, and her post-mortem decapitation was not his first killing. If he is indeed a serial killer, law officers can only hope he will give them an accurate account of his actions so they can find remains of his victims, and close the cases.  But there are many serial killers who die without revealing much at all about their victims. 

We are not talking about normal people with normal feelings of remorse. I watched a really creepy videotape of Jeffery Dahmer recounting some of his actions, and he seemed to be detached in some macabre way.  I know of one emergency crew worker who had to clean up Dahmer's mess, who has never recovered from the horror he saw inside that apartment.

I was acquainted with a serial killer once.  His name is Wayne Williams and he is serving a life sentence in Georgia for The Atlanta Child Murders.  That's a still disputed number of killings of young,black ...mostly males..found around metro Atlanta in the late 1970s and 1980.  Wayne Williams was convicted of two of them, and the rest of the cases were closed. I still believe those closed cases without trial were an injustice at least to the families of the victims.  They had a right to know how their loved ones died, and whether or not there was sufficient evidence to prove it to a jury.

Wayne was a television photographer who worked free-lance in the days of film, not video tape.  I became familiar with him because he would often be at WSB-TV news dropping off film early in the morning when I arrived for work at WSB Radio.  Sometimes, Wayne would make a photocopy of a radio news story to tape it to a film can so the morning folks at Channel Two would know what the story was.  Williams drove a metallic blue Plymouth that was identical to the Atlanta Police Department's unmarked cars.  He even had the antenna like the police cars, only his was probably hooked to a police scanner so he could listen-in and head to breaking news stories to get the film.

Our shop was one of the first, if not THE first news department to connect the dots and start asking questions about why so many young black males were turning up dead.  Eventually we were told by profilers there was a strong possibility the killer would be an authority figure like a law officer or someone with a uniform. Wayne did drive that cop look-alike. 

I even came under scrutiny from law officers when I turned up at a number of the crime scenes.  It was because I was working on-call as news director at the time, and I had the story by default as much as anything else.  I learned later that police had a photo of me taken by an undercover officer, and had taken it by the station to identify me.  Then, while I was coaching my son's soccer team, another coach who was a law officer mentioned to me that he knew more about me than I thought he did...because I had been watched in the early days of the serial killer investigation.  I apparently matched one of the many descriptions or profiles of people they had to rule out.

Eventually, fiber evidence convicted Wayne Williams.

Remember that general profile?  Wayne Williams is black.

At any given time, there are fifty of them in the U.S.  That's nearly a bus load.




Posted by Dave Foulk at 18:17:54 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Campaigning With A Wet Finger In The Air

I have interviewed a bunch of presidential candidates.  Some were quite well versed on the issues and showed they had some kind of personal bearing to follow. Others were clueless, propped up by PR and advertisements, and media buzz. Those kind have a leadership continuity about as long as a pack of Chinese firecrackers.

These are the days when a lot of political campaign decisions are not made from the heart of the candidate, but by number people.  Little number people with Blackberries and designer suits,  Treos and and leather suspenders.  Young little people whose mamas were driving them to school not too many years ago.   Paper thin principled individuals who make decisions based on the latest poll, the latest numbers that are "crunched", which is an euphemism for making statistics come out in a way favorable to your goals and ideals.

Candidates can hardly wipe their rear-ends without some kind of handler present to take notes and comment to the media on just how it was wiped and how important the wiping is to the campaign, and issue a press release about the wiping. 

Ask some of the news reporters who try to get interviews- just five minutes with any of the candidates.  Or you can ask talk show hosts at local stations who have had a candidate scheduled for an interview, only to be dumped for another station in a "more important market.

By the time the real people get a chance to cast a ballot, they have had a sombrero full of attack ads, nasty dirty tricks, innuendos, and shady dealings over donations.  One top advisor skates through a career inspired by the master magician of attack campaigning.  And he is not alone practicing his craft.  There are plenty of spin masters for each party.

President Bush was dead-on the other day, when during his news conference at The White House, he said he wanted to know the candidates guiding principles that will stay with them during good times and bad.  In my mind's ear, I could hear the Blackberries clicking, as the little people on the campaign trail thumbed in "research guiding principle polls".

It's not the system that is messed up.

We just need candidates who will speak with their own intellect, and from the heart, and seek support for their ideals, and not their campaign. Who knows? It might start a trend... if the polls show it to be effective.  
Posted by Dave Foulk at 18:57:19 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |