Author Archives: Rick

About Rick

Writer, photographer, thinker of deep thought . . . too bad I only write about shallow ones.

Letters from the Front Line — Day 75

 

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My Dearest Mr. Daquano,

The persistent malaise hanging over Forward Operating Base Frat House has been replaced with fleeting optimism. Rumors are circulating among the ranks that General News has declared an end to hostilities against the wretched contagion which has separated us lo these many days.

As of this writing, it is but a rumor, but soon, my bunion, we may do more than cast loving glances at distances greater than 6 feet, or trade humorous anecdotes in fewer than 120 characters. Shortly, this epistolary relationship may be replaced by actual auditory communication and hairy man-hugs.

A timeline to resuming niceties has yet to be affixed to the Frat House wall, but the grapevine reports it may be as soon as Monday next. If so, I would hope that you can refrain from frolicking with the enlisted men who return before me. I fear the injuries I have incurred battling distancing regulations and masked encounters for the sake of journalism will detain me a smidgen longer.

The doctors say they will be able to save my leg, but not without considerable recovery time. And I vow not to appear at your threshold until I can carry you across it like the smitten soldier I am.

Warmest personal regards,

Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Battalion

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Mail Call — Day 74

101235436_10216114619833933_6039677535275450368_nFinest Rick,

I find myself in a bit of a conundrum.

I’m quite disheartened to lose the magnificently effervescent Ms Poe to the morning show. On the other hand I’m ecstatic about gaining the ray of sunshine that is Ms Koh.

I think we should use our expansive experience and acute negotiating skills and approach the Imperial Empress of all things morning show, the dynamic Ms Reed, and propose a trade: Ms Poe comes back to days. We keep Ms Koh, and we give her Pvt. Slappy and The Boot in return.

On the surface this transaction affords us better overall video quality, no more dirty lenses, gold United States posters, or abandoned equipment.

I’m sure she will drive up the offer, since this transaction is heavily weighted in our favor. To that end, we can throw in 2 digital nerds and an extra bag of mints per week.

Let’s pull up our chairs to the bargaining table to see what happens my little baby ape.

Warmest sincerity,

Left Eye Daquano
2nd Regime
69th Battalion

Categories: corona virus, covid-19, Fun, Life Or Something Like It, news, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Letters from the Front Line — Day 73

vfcpnzutg4p41My Dearest Mr. Daquano,

You are certainly a lucky little pudding cup! But alas, your luck may be short-lived. Whilst the photographic evidence supporting a Sasquatch is impressive, the tell-tale scent of bar-b-que sauce can mean only one thing.

You did not capture proof of the legendary swamp yeti.

But don’t be sad, my fluffy bunny fart, your snapshot may yet be of some value. I dare say you may have inadvertently recorded for posterity the newsroom crimefighter known as Fatman!

It is a true oddity this time of year. When the mercury begins to rise, Fatman retreats to the frigid confines of his FatCave. From there,  the Fatman reigns justice on all who offend the News Gods. With thunderous lamentations and a beefy paw, he dispatches nere-do-wells and video scofflaws for infractions such as, but not limited to damaged gear, unplugged live trucks, and soft focus.

Boot Duhe must have performed yet another egregious affront to visual journalism to stir the beast from his grumpy slumber. Considering the temperate climate this time of year, he will be even less amenable to the usual excuses.

Stay clear of the Fatman’s pernicious gaze. It has been known to cause the staunchest to evacuate his bowels. It would indeed be tragic if you sullied your immaculate steed.

Warmest personal regards,

Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Battalion

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Mail Call — Day 72

100658671_10216092473880298_2452209309908467712_nDearest Rick,

I may have exciting news. I have photographic evidence of the most elusive creature to roam our beloved countryside.

It was mid-afternoon, and I was enjoying a perfectly crafted peanut butter and jelly sandwich with skinny popcorn from the safe confines of my Ford Escape. At first I thought it was the hot sun mixed with the smells of the nearby fast food joint that made me uneasy. As I pensively looked up from my homemade sandwich I saw something truly implausible.

Could my left eye be deceiving me? Could the subject of many books, novels, and television shows be right in front of my one good eye??

He was 10 feet tall if he was an inch. I nervously stumbled to reach my phone to document that which was lumbering in the distance. My nimble actions and cat like reflexes allowed me to capture just a glimpse of the great beast.

Could it be the reputed hominid, Sasquatch, Big Foot in our very tall tower 9 parking lot?

The missing link appeared and quickly vanished like a thief behind microwave trucks and satellite dishes. Was it the patron saint of news ops or was it actually Big Foot?

We may never know the truth but I did smell the distinct aroma of wintergreen mints and BBQ sauce.

With love,
Left eye Daquano
2nd Regime
69th Battalion

Categories: corona virus, covid-19, Fun, Life Or Something Like It, news, Uncategorized | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Letters from the Front Line — Day 71

IMG_1043My Dearest Mr. Daquano,

Things are all a tizzy in forward Operating Base Frat House. Earlier today, we received royalty!

The good senator from the Round The Way District dropped in for a visit. As you will no-doubt surmise by the forlorn look in his eyes and the half-hearted hand gesture, he did not make the trip for pleasure.

IMG_1040His purpose was two-fold: 1) to requisition file footage from the hard drive on my government-issued laptop. 2) to roundly chastise us for the quality of video proffered to the News Gods by one Boot Duhe.

It is a war I have waged since I first stepped foot in Frat House. The Boot is slow to accept advice, even under direct order.

It is my firmest hope that the mere sight of such a legend as Senator Hollins, will endow the young boot with super-human visual ability, and the editing prowess of Ninja Randolph. For if it does not, I may be forced to unleash the enemy wind, and choke him into submission.

Warmest personal regards,

Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Battalion

Post Script: Here’s to hoping this Memorial Day is spared another dust storm as that which engulfed Boot Duhe in his most recent dispatch.

Categories: corona virus, covid-19, Fun, Life Or Something Like It, news, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mail Call — Day 70

100102124_10216067641779511_2923875381335293952_nDearest Rick,

I always get verklempt when I pass Cortana Mall, what you call a wasteland is a relic of my formidable years. That “forgotten part of the city” is where I use to call home.

Strolling past stores with my cocky gait, looking for oversized shirts and Girbaud jeans, listening to Public Enemy on my Walkman. The smell of Mama Brava pizza permeates through the food court as I check out the girls with the big hair.

I can still hear the uproarious noises from Galaga and Donkey Kong reverberating off the stained tile floors of the arcade. Make light of it if you will, but it unfortunately made me who I am today.

On a more serious note my diminutive dandelion, I was pursuing the twitter and stumbled upon a tweet from Pvt. Slappy. It showed your face superimposed over a fat dumpy body. Knowing Slappy’s non-technological expertise I knew he wasn’t savvy enough to pull off such an elaborate ruse.

I was dumbfounded as to what this contagion has done to your once below average appearance. The days of honey buns and endless cokes seem to have doubled the size of your gut. Please my miniature marionette, eliminate sweets and that rambling oaf for they have completely ravaged your will to live.

Our embrace won’t be as fulfilling with the extra largess you have acquired over our 3 month separation.

Regards,
Left Eye Daquano
2nd Regime
69th Battalion

Post Script: Remind me to unfollow Slappy, too much Memphis retweets.

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Letters from the Front Line — Day 66

polecatsMy Dearest Mr. Daquano,

Rejoice my cuddly little pole cat. I sense the end is nigh.

Today, I left the safety of Forward Operating Base Frat House, and ventured into the vast wasteland known to locals as Cortana. What I saw there bolstered my hope.

By the sheer will of the Almighty Himself, fresh flora forced its way skyward through the crags and crevices of an empty parking lot. A lone motorist sped carelessly through my frame with little regard for traffic control markings.

Image-1Surely, if this forgotten part of the city shows signs of life, things must be getting better.

The reason Private Slappy and I trekked to such a wasteland was at once disheartening and uplifting. A global corporation named for a jungle in South America has reneged on its promise to purchase said shanty town.

The move will dash the hopes of gainful employment for thousands, and rob city and state coffers of a veritable bonanza tax dollars. It is a truly woeful tale.

But.

And here is the good part.

Neither Pvt. Slappy, the subjects we questioned, nor the producers, or General News himself uttered the word “virus” during the full extent of our dispatch.

I have full confidence that I will soon rest in your gangly arms where I will stare into your one good eye and utter the three words you miss most.

“Hold my calls.”

Warmest personal regards,

Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Battalion

Categories: corona virus, covid-19, Fun, Life Or Something Like It, news, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mail Call — Day 65

97875160_10216042177942931_6680608976507240448_nLoving Rick,

As I rose from my perch, I never imagined how my day, in mere seconds, would instantly brighten. I thoroughly washed my hands for 20 seconds, and pulled the door open using a moist towelette. There I saw a filthy derelict, who somehow made his way into the newsroom.

The downstairs sorority house usually smells like an altar of roses since the photogs left, but today a stench of hopelessness invaded my huge nasal passages. Filthy asics tennis shoes, beat up jeans — ones the local thrift store wouldn’t dare resell.

As my eyes kept scanning upward, I started to have palpitations, sweat began beading upon my forehead. In that instant I knew it wasn’t a dirty vagabond in search of change to feed his addictions; it was you, my diminutive pocket sized doll!!

Oh the joy and exultation, the coarse facial hair, massive wrinkles and forlorn expression could only be my pint sized prince.

In that moment I never knew how much you looked like that popular 90’s Troll doll, minus the hair. The darkened bags under your eyes and disheveled appearance has caused me great consternation.

Are those fratsastic bullies taking care of my little man? You seem to be wearing the stress of this quarantine from the top of your not so freshly shaven head to the holes in your stained socks.

Don’t fret my little Danny Davito body double, take care of yourself and know we will be reunited soon, smoking cigars in the Tumey grotto.

Affectionately yours,

Left Eye Daquano
2nd Regime
69th Battalion

Categories: corona virus, covid-19, Fun, Life Or Something Like It, news, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Letters from the Front Line — Day 64

IMG_1416 (1)My Dearest Mr. Daquano,

Is it possible to weep for joy and sorrow at once? For I know not why I shed tears on a recent afternoon.

It has been 64 torturous days since last I saw your mangled lineament. Friday past, I was ordered by the General himself to break the quarantine, and at great peril and considerable menace, I left Forward Operating Base Frat House to enter the Producer’s Den at the foot of the stairs.

The room smelled of magnolias and honeysuckle, but that is not what brought tears to mine eyes. Nor was it the lavish buffet of pastries, savory snacks, and sweet tea — picked over as it was by the houseboys — laid out for all to graze.

As I gazed over the shoulder of WeatherDude Emeritus at the talking head on his computer screen, my heart leapt at the voice I heard exiting our favorite Men’s Room. I dared a momentary glance over my shoulder.

Did my aged eyes deceive me? Might my hearing fail me?

It was you, my unlovely Italian gelding.

Tears began to flow as gas from Mount Fotmore.

As I continue to attempt to ascertain whether they were tears of joy at the sight of your repellant visage, or of sorrow knowing that I must again sequester myself at any distance from your warm embrace, know verily that we shall, one day, wantonly nosh bananas whilst playing endless rounds for FMK in the Toomey Grotto.

Warmest personal regards,

Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Battalion

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Mail Call — Day 63

97579172_10216006360767524_5476141009580589056_nRick, my nobel beast,

I shall gallop next to you across swampy waters, bumpy terrain and the bowels of hell to reach those ivory pillars, my bald comrade.

The sloppiness of one of our Multiple Media associates, has caused me to be called out on this thing called Twitter. It seems as if Boot Duhe’ couldn’t liberate his stick mic away from the entrapment of big robs boom pole.

What am I to respond, he’s new, he’s slow, his eyebrows got in the way?? I’m at a loss and time is of the essence to right these wrongs. I fear the ghosts of Murrow, Cronkite and Bradley will begin to make spooky noises if we don’t redress these atrocities promptly.

Stay precious my hairy bushpig, the revolution WILL BE TELEVISED !!

With devotion,
Left Eye Daquano
2nd Regime
69th Battalion

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