Adventures in Local News

A local TV reporter delivers an entire report without having watch the last five seconds of the Michigan-Michigan State game.



I actually blame the producers back at the studio. The reporter has to be outside getting ready, can't wait for the game to end. They needed to tell him what happened, and not go to him until the game truly was over. But he looked like a douche for saying the fans were pouring out of the stadium and celebrating.

Speaking of douches in local news, a reporter in Toronto fails to use a key verb and tricks a poor Blue Jays fan.



Idiot should have said "are you going to get tickets?" The way she said it I can understand why the woman was confused.
But I'd have hated to be the person who had to break it to her.

You Don't Want to See How the Sausage is Made

Seattle Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch loves Skittles. His nickname is Beast Mode. (That's for the lady Poopheads). Oh and I guess I should also mention the Seahawks are the Super Bowl.
The Seahawks introduced a Beast Mode burger, which came with a bag of Skittles, on the side.
But that just wasn't good enough for one butcher in Seattle. He decided to just dump an entire bag of Skittles into the sausage.



It might not be so bad if Skittles still had lime instead of that awful green apple.

Funny or Douchey?

At Syracuse University half of the guys in broadcast journalism want to be local sports anchors, at least to start their careers. Adam Lefkoe, class of 2008, is living the dream at WHAS11 in Louisville. For his Sunday evening sportscast he turned it into a Seinfeldcast. He took suggestions via Twitter and worked in as many references as he could. He hit 41, including the graphics.



I think it's a cool idea, but I'm not sold on the execution. Of the 41 references, 10 were natural, 20 (including those) were funny, 20 others were forced and awkward and 1 went over my head. It took me several minutes to remember Jack Clompus told Jerry to "take the pen."

I'm very torn on funny or douchey for this one, which is why I need your help, Poopheads.

The Best Prank in TV History

Whenever there's a disaster someone tries to call a local station and yell out BabaBooey or something similar. It happened during the OJ chase, it's happened to Ali Velshi, it's happened millions of times, but never this spectacularly.



KTVU in San Francisco got duped into reporting the "names" of the four pilots involved in the Asiana 214 Crash

Sum Ting Wong (Something Wrong)
Wi Tu Lo (We Too Low)
Ho Lee Fuk (Holy Fuck)
Bang Ding Ow (Bang Ding Ow)

I'm still holding out hope that this didn't really happened and we've all been duped by an elaborate hoax.

This is How You Do Local News

I have a lot of respect for local news reporters who go out in the field everyday and report, often with morons, trying to get into their shots to be on TV. We've seen reporters insult and even assault these morons, but nothing beats what Jessica Sanchez did to this moron on Bourbon Street.



"So how long have you had an STD?"
Brilliant!

Look What the Cat Dragged In

A quiet California neighborhood is being terrorized by Dusty the Klepto Kitty.



My favorite part is Dusty coming down the street with a bra hanging out of his mouth.



But there are so many questions:
1) Why can't they lock Dusty inside the house? How does he keep getting out?
2) Why can't the neighbors lock up their stuff? I can see the bathing suits, but why are your tighty whiteys outside?
3) Why do his owners still have a collection of the stuff he's taken? Don't they give it back? Why are the holding onto their neighbors' dirty drawers?
4) Why do people own cats?

Racist Newscast

A TV station in Rochester does a story about Popeye's running out of chicken on the very day it advertised an 8-piece bucket, normally $7.29, for $4.99.
To confirm an age-old stereotype that black people like fried chicken, the racist news team at WHAM interviews nearly a dozen people for the story, I'll let you count the white people.



Btw, I still love Popeye's and I'm happy to pay full price for the 8-piece whenever Mrs. Poop is out of town.

Please don't tell the Conciergette that I eat an 8-piece by myself.