Skip to main content

Thomas Crooks, The Trump Shooter, Is A Nigerian!

  Thomas Crooks Thomas Crooks was just an ordinary guy until he listened to his overtaxed brain.  Brain: Do you know you can be famous? Crooks: How? Brain: By attempting the infamous!  So, Crooks picked his father’s AR-15-style semiautomatic rifle. He listened to his confused brain again and headed to a rally nearby. Minutes later, he did a crooked thing by firing at Donald Trump!  Crooks wasn't a known professional crook. But he obviously had a enough crooked mind to store explosives in his car and home.  Yes, the Trump shooter was one man. But his name, “Crooks,” gave the impression of a multiple negative character. His crooked act and plans probably justified the addition of letter “s” to a his name, making him one but many crooks! Crooks’  “crooked shot missed Trump by an inch. Thomas Crooks was probably so crooked that he couldn't think straight. But thank God he couldn't shoot straight, either. Otherwise, the world would have missed a daring, straight...
Post a Comment

JOURNALISM AND ITS MANY SIDECHICS.

 JOURNALISM AND ITS MANY SIDECHICS.


* Courtesy: Edugist

Welcome, dear journalists (real and fake) and mischief-makers, to a wonderful day on the calendar— Press Freedom Day! Today, we raise our pens or two-kobo Android phones  in celebration of the noble pursuit of attention, truth, justice, and the occasional typo.


Well, the pen might be 

“mightier than the sword”, but never as sharp as autocorrect. In any case, that used to be before Andy Rubin, et al, came up with the android project. Now, quacks even  have the unconstitutional right to turn a presidential proclamation into an inconsequential recipe for pancakes. The tragedy of misinterpretations in communication, if you ask me. But, don’t, anyway!


Yes, in today’s fast-paced world of journalism, every story is urgent. Sorry, “breaking!” From groundbreaking news to and about breaking wind, journalism now walks a fine line between uncovering truth and discovering the colour of foul air.


Ah, that enigmatic allure of "breaking news"! Sometimes, despite the fake  urgency, it leaves us scratching our heads, wondering what exactly is so "breaking" about it. Yet, the only thing truly breaking about “breaking news” often turns out to be our patience  - as we wait endlessly for the actual news to break. Imagine a wide-eyed anchor declaring: "We interrupt our regular programming for this breaking news!" Only for you to see a picture of acat stuck in a tree!


“Breaking news” is now a sign of 

desperation - a tool used to attract  undue attention. It’s a frantic attempt to lure someone to read, watch  or listen to an empty content. So, relax. It's not the news that's breaking—it's our collective sanity as we try to make sense of it all.


Headlines used to act as windows into the stories. And, someone described headline crafting as a “dance between accuracy and alliteration”. But today, man can bite dogs. And, a "Politician Speaks Truth…” A newspaper once accidentally wrote "Pubic Library" instead of "Public Library" in a headline. Unless clean shaven, it must have been a hairy situation, I guess.


I was taught that when doctors make mistakes, they are buried - six feet, sometimes. Lawyers’ mistakes are hidden - locked up behind bars. But journalists’ mistakes are always blown open - on the front pages and public tv screens! For instance, there was an occasion when one group was “unjustly” replaced with another: "Prostitutes Appeal to Pope," when it was  meant to be "Protesters Appeal to Pope."



A foreign newspaper once told us that: "Obama Visits Friends President" instead of "Obama Visits French President." While the French president may have enjoyed the friendship, another medium gleefully announced in a photo caption that a: “Man Kills Self Before Shooting Wife and Daughter." Perhaps, the man was more active and vindictive as a ghost!


Yet, the blunders the real journalists make in their genuine  hurry to update the world with news only shows their human side. They also show that even in the serious business - where journalists risk lives and limbs to bring us the news from some of the world's most dangerous places - there's always room for a little laugh.


Still, while fighting with the authorities for a freer press, the need for fact-checking redoubles!  Even in this era of alternative truths, facts still remain sacred. 


Yeah, truth is stranger than fiction and fiction is sometimes presented as truth. So, the sure way to remain credible  in journalism is to fact-check!  Without facts, we might as well all be watching a prankfilled reality show called: “Impractical Jokers”!


At the moment, the true health of journalism is not certain. Half alive; half dead! Any possibility of full recovery? Maybe. Perhaps, dropping some of the sidechics mentioned above may help speed up recovery. Yet, as ethics of the practice give way to android emojis and illiterate Gen Z coinages, journalism increasingly risks usurpation by charlatans. We no long struggle with the quacks, only. Robots may soon replace reporters, and may one day win the Pulitzer Prize for the most creative use of emojis in a “breaking tweet”!


Meanwhile,  raise your glasses in celebration of the day. And, never forget the countless journalists who occasionally stumble over their own words as they struggle to inform! Here’s also to the numerous sidechics dragging journalism down!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Losing My Senses

    I’ve been thinking. In the face of much disenchantment, what would happen if I lost my senses. Like many a depressed Nigerian, the mind veers off sometimes. Then, I wonder if life would be better without “number 5.”    If, for instance, I lost my power of “taste,” I could eat just anything, couldn’t I? That, I’m sure, would be the solution to the Obasanjo-induced hunger in the land. I could swallow stone, the way I do  eba , and still go on strong. On the other hand, I may not even be hungry, since I’d have no feeling,  abi ?  Indeed, I won’t need to know if a particular food had salt or fish or meat in it. It wouldn’t matter if the dish were Yoruba, Igbira, Efik, Igbo, Ibibio, Hausa, etc. Just stuff the thing down the throat, drink water and say thank you. I could drink tea with vinegar and lick my lips like I just had a breakfast of sugar sauce. All those would save me the problem of having to buy those tiny things that seem inconsequential but a...
Post a Comment
Read more

Go to London and Die!

  My daughter just loves jingles. For instance, once AIT signature tune starts, she surfaces before the TV set - prancing like a calf.  Super Story, Binta and Friends , etc also have a similar effect. She’s barely two, but m-e-e-n, she has already cut her own jingles. Samples: “I want to poopoo”; “I want to eat because I’m tired”; “You harassing me?”   But the other day, the girl ran from the TV. As if she saw a Chimpanzee. Or a masquerade. Or a ghost pinched her from behind. The way she shouted, you’d think she entered a “London trap” – like Alamieyeseigha. By the time I ran to the TV, a CNN newscaster was talking about a horrible New Orleans woman named Katrina.    Another day, the moment I switched to CNN, my baby turned to go. Just as a figure blocked the screen, shaking both hands like an  okrika  seller. The girl ran. I’ve blurred vision but somebody said the figure was General Olusegun Obasanjo. But then, you know how Nigerians lie against the p...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sometimes, I Forget My Name

    My wife and I get into a fight often when she misplaces her wedding ring. But I go mad when she forgets my baby somewhere and expects me to find her. “Skott dear, have you seen the baby? I hope I didn’t leave her in the bathtub with the tap running?” But I hardly can remember we have a baby until she shows me a picture with a “missing person” label. A nine-month-old girl who even forgets to say, “good morning daddy.” She only smiles every time she sees me, making my wife furiously jealous. And I can’t remember what for.   I am hardly sure of anything these days. I greet people “Good morning” and they tell me it’s already afternoon. I say some things and people say I lied. But I suspect the only time I ever lied was when I promised my wife I would “shift” power to her after our marriage. She reminded me the other day and I told her I couldn’t remember. Ok, I also lied when I filled an employment form. Under “Nationality,” I wrote: “Nigerian.” Now, I’m no longer sure. T...
Post a Comment
Read more