Attention journalists: I know what you're thinking.
No, seriously: I know what you're thinking.
You see, I possess many special powers. For example, I can install window-unit air-conditioners. I can blend eyeshadow, making a smooth gradient that runs from the crease of my eyelid to just below my eyebrow. But perhaps best of all, I am journalistically clairvoyant--that is, I can accurately predict, to within a phoneme or two, the exact report that you will file on any given story.
Using this last power, I've glimpsed the report you intend to file from the streets of New Orleans next Tuesday morning, and let me just say, it sucks. In fact, it's so full of inaccuracies and half-truths that I've taken the liberty of rewriting it--leaving a little room for your personal tastes to shine through, of course. It's still got that canned, cheesy tone you blondined broadcasters love so much, but it's far less likely to get you pummeled by the locals hanging out just behind your left shoulder in the hopes of getting glimpsed on national TV. So grab a bloody Mary, fill in the blanks, and laissez the cameras roulez.
ANCHOR: ...And now, we're going live to New Orleans, where it's just 7:00am, but [insert reporter name here] says the city is already on its feet, ready to party.
REPORTER: Good morning, [insert anchor name here]! I'm standing here on [St Charles Avenue/world-famous Canal Street], waiting to see Zulu, the first parade of Mardi Gras day--or Fat Tuesday, as it's called in New Orleans. As you can see behind me, the crowds are a little thinner than usual, but the fact that they're here at all is actually something of a triumph for the city.
(Cut to stock footage of Katrina/aftermath with voiceover)
REPORTER: Six months ago, these people and I would have been standing in a city that was mostly underwater. There was no power, no phone service, and looters wandered the streets, unhindered by the city's overwhelmed police force. Initial estimates predicted it would take months for the city to dry out. But now, just half a year later, many folks are once again living in New Orleans, and they're lined up to revel in one of the best free parties in the world.
(Cut to footage of older couple, sorting through moldy debris and ripping out drywall)
REPORTER: Some people have said that Carnival should have been cancelled, given the devastation still to be found in vast stretches of the city. But such protests haven't usually come from New Orleanians themselves. Take John and Mary [LeBlanc/Bourgeois/Schexnayder], whose home of 32 years in nearby [Mid-City/Gentilly/Central City] took on four feet of water. John and Mary have been living in a trailer for the past two months, trying to make a little progress each day on rebuilding. They've been given the run-around by their insurance company, and they say FEMA has offered little, if any help. But they're still wearing purple, green, and gold to celebrate the Carnival season.
MARY: We had a king cake party for the whole block last night, and we all gonna go see Zulu and Rex roll on Tuesday. Not having Mardi Gras would be like not having Christmas, and who wants to live without Christmas, now tell me dat!
(Cut back to live footage, with the MAX band--consisting of St. Mary, St. Augustine, and Xavier Prep students--passing in the background)
REPORTER: Who wants to live without Christmas, indeed? I don't know about you, [insert anchor name here], but a world without Christmas just doesn't seem like a world worth living in to me.
ANCHOR: Although [Jews/Muslims/Buddhists/Hindus/atheists] might not mind so much.
REPORTER: (Pressing earpiece further into ear) What was that, [insert anchor name here]?
ANCHOR: That was [insert reporter name here], reporting live from New Orleans.
I know, I know. You can thank me later....
