The other day I was lunching at the Dog House (kosher beef Chicago style/Coke in a can) with my friend Brian, when a swarm of middle schoolers holding notebooks descended on the place. Their teacher told us that she'd seen Amy Goodman speak the night before and was inspired to create the next wave of unembedded journalists. And what better way to do that than head to the Dog House for a hot news story?
Well, these kids were in luck, because they'd just come across two experienced journalists enjoying the absolute freedom of their jobs by sitting outside in freezing weather in order to eat hot dogs mere feet from where they were warmed. We agreed to be interviewed about our jobs.
We told them the hard truth: we would ask tough questions if we had to and bust down doors to get the facts. I tried to make the profession sound noble, but the dab of mustard on my face may have diminished my credibility. No matter, I'm happy to know I helped shape the next generation of unembedded journalists, who, if they're smart, will choose the glamorous lifestyle of the freelance writer.
Don't hold the onions, kids. Don't hold the onions.
