Tuesday, August 22, 2006
It's Not You, It's Me
I feel like I've been dumped. Has Roger reported on ANYTHING in the past couple of days?? Do I just keep on missing him? Did he go to another competitive eating contest and have a run in with another bad hot dog? Maybe he's just taking some time off after reporting on non-stop power outages. Whatever it is, this can't continue. I'm lost without a daily dose of Clark.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Roger Clark: Fisherman (for real this time)
The brown polo was back again. This can only mean two things: 1) Roger's going to do something majorly nerdy in the name of news (see Roger Clark: Reporter Guy) or 2) The upcoming report will put even a die-hard NY1 / Roger Clark groupie like myself into a coma of boredom (see any of the reports on the multiple power outages in Queens which, while terrible for the residents of Queens, were even worse for the folks who had to watch Clark try to make discussing them interesting) . Today's segment was on fishing in Great Kills, Staten Island. I'll take Option #2, Vanna.
It's Monday, a day in desperate need of a ratings boost. Similarly, Staten Island, home of the Fresh Kills Landfill, is pretty much the bastard, redheaded step-child of the boroughs, even the outer ones. In general, no one likes Mondays and most folks feel the same way about Staten Island. You throw in fishing and you've got yourself a loser. But there's Clark, in his brown polo, standing on the Great Kills beach (Yes, Staten Island boasts two locations with the words Kills in it. This should be a tip-off to comedians and reporters alike: just don't go there.) talking about how folks love coming to this beach to take their chances on reeling in a big one. This "big one" might include objects other than fish since Clark also felt the need to warn would-be Old Men River that you really shouldn't eat too much of what comes out of these waters due to the pollution. I guess this means the occasional filet of irradiated blue fish or empty oil drum is ok, though.
Man was this segment a snooze-fest. I couldn't even bring myself to laugh when he interviewed two gentlemen sporting fishing poles, red faces and voices that sounded like they were no strangers to the smokes, about the joys of angling at this particular beach. One guy aptly commented that fishing keeps him from watching the news. If every news story were like this one, I too would never tune in. Even Pat Kiernan, always good for a witty comment, seemed glazed over. Roger, by the way, doesn't like to fish because he can't stand to see the hook in the fish's mouth. Oh ok. Zzzzzz.
On the Clark-o-meter scale of 1-10: 2
It's Monday, a day in desperate need of a ratings boost. Similarly, Staten Island, home of the Fresh Kills Landfill, is pretty much the bastard, redheaded step-child of the boroughs, even the outer ones. In general, no one likes Mondays and most folks feel the same way about Staten Island. You throw in fishing and you've got yourself a loser. But there's Clark, in his brown polo, standing on the Great Kills beach (Yes, Staten Island boasts two locations with the words Kills in it. This should be a tip-off to comedians and reporters alike: just don't go there.) talking about how folks love coming to this beach to take their chances on reeling in a big one. This "big one" might include objects other than fish since Clark also felt the need to warn would-be Old Men River that you really shouldn't eat too much of what comes out of these waters due to the pollution. I guess this means the occasional filet of irradiated blue fish or empty oil drum is ok, though.
Man was this segment a snooze-fest. I couldn't even bring myself to laugh when he interviewed two gentlemen sporting fishing poles, red faces and voices that sounded like they were no strangers to the smokes, about the joys of angling at this particular beach. One guy aptly commented that fishing keeps him from watching the news. If every news story were like this one, I too would never tune in. Even Pat Kiernan, always good for a witty comment, seemed glazed over. Roger, by the way, doesn't like to fish because he can't stand to see the hook in the fish's mouth. Oh ok. Zzzzzz.
On the Clark-o-meter scale of 1-10: 2
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Roger Clark IS the Gorton's Fisherman
Remember when you were in elementary school and there was that one kid who was just born to be a nerd? This kid was usually a boy and always looked like he and his knapsack had gotten into a fierce tornado on the way to school. The shirt was buttoned wrong, the Trapper Keeper (with a space age theme) had exploded, the sneakers were always untied, and the nose was unfailingly being picked. Sports, even kickball, were not this kid's forte and his interests usually involved video games (formerly a nerds-only pursuit), comic books, Star Trek, paintball, and big-breasted girls - just as long as they were animated. There is some justice in the world and oftentimes the nerds come out on top: Bill Gates for example, Stephen Spielberg, the kid in the Wonder Years. And then there are the perma-nerds like our beloved Roger Clark who fall somewhere in the middle: touched gently by fame, but without the big bucks to hire someone to button their shirts correctly.
This morning Roger was at a research lab at Brooklyn College reporting on the College's work creating sustainable fisheries. Clark was wearing a striped polo (new?) and a tiny yellow raincoat that it appeared he had either slept in or put on in a hurry since half of it was hanging off his shoulder. Picture a kid who just arrived late to school and had to throw down his bookbag in a hurry to get to homeroom and I'll show you Roger Clark.
The researcher that Clark interviewed, a doctor someone, was older, very tan, and wearing enough rings to make Liberace jealous. Roger referred to him as the "Fish Head." Before reaching into a tank to net out an gigantic halibut, the good doctor cracked a joke that, because it wasn't funny, has not stuck in my fish head. Clark thought it was hilarious and commented that this was a guy who had clearly spent time in the Catskills. Clearly. Roger looked pretty grossed out by the squirming beast and eventually he threw back to Pat Kiernan at the home desk with the comment, "I thought I made the cheesiest jokes" with the implication that Dr. Old Man River was even cheesier than he. Pat was barely audible at that point and Roger, knowing things were about to get painfully awkward, shifted in his rumpled raincoat and dropped his head to his chest - like a rock star at the end of a ballad or a loveable nerd just staring at his shoe.
This morning Roger was at a research lab at Brooklyn College reporting on the College's work creating sustainable fisheries. Clark was wearing a striped polo (new?) and a tiny yellow raincoat that it appeared he had either slept in or put on in a hurry since half of it was hanging off his shoulder. Picture a kid who just arrived late to school and had to throw down his bookbag in a hurry to get to homeroom and I'll show you Roger Clark.
The researcher that Clark interviewed, a doctor someone, was older, very tan, and wearing enough rings to make Liberace jealous. Roger referred to him as the "Fish Head." Before reaching into a tank to net out an gigantic halibut, the good doctor cracked a joke that, because it wasn't funny, has not stuck in my fish head. Clark thought it was hilarious and commented that this was a guy who had clearly spent time in the Catskills. Clearly. Roger looked pretty grossed out by the squirming beast and eventually he threw back to Pat Kiernan at the home desk with the comment, "I thought I made the cheesiest jokes" with the implication that Dr. Old Man River was even cheesier than he. Pat was barely audible at that point and Roger, knowing things were about to get painfully awkward, shifted in his rumpled raincoat and dropped his head to his chest - like a rock star at the end of a ballad or a loveable nerd just staring at his shoe.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Roger Clark: Whirling Dervish
Roger makes my head spin. One day I find myself laughing at/with him as I did on Friday when he attended a Pilates convention and was repeatedly assaulted by a wigged out old instructor with one name who kept bending him over a horse to stretch out his back. Poor Clark, bright red and sweaty, pointed at his substantial belly and tried to make small talk about reducing his gut, only to find himself being bent over the horse again. One-Name didn't want to chat, she wanted to stretch and Rog had no choice but to comply.
Monday rolls around and I turn on NY1 with a smile already plastered on my face anticipating a morning kick-off of pure Roger. What gaffs did he have in store for us? I could hardly wait. The second I saw the suit...and tie...I knew I was in for something serious. Tragically, a pet store had caught fire and many animals had been killed. Roger, and his heart and belly full of gold, almost cried on camera. Wet kittens wrapped in towels being comforted by locals was a horrible sight to behold and our man Roger covered the story with gravity. Ed Murrow in the midst of the Blitz couldn't have done it better.
This morning, I kept one eye closed as I turned on the tube. Tuesday is a grim enough day without having the one news guy you turn to for levity near tears. It's like watching Santa Claus cry or drink himself to death. But Roger didn't let me down today. Today he was covering the 10th anniversary of Pokemon at Bryant Park and kicked off the piece making some poor sap in a life-sized Pikechu costume wiggle its ears before diving into its chest and murmuring "I love you." He could have wrapped up right there, but the best was yet to come. After a brief chat with a guy who teaches kids how to score at Pokemon (sadly I don't think I ever realized it was an actual game), he interviewed a boy who looked not unlike Nicholas from "Eight Is Enough." When Roger asked him where he was from and the kid told him Forest Hills, Roger practically had a heart attack and whacked the kid Elaine Bennis-from-"Seinfeld"-style in solidarity (Clark is from Forest Hills). The kid, not knowing what other bizarre things the lunatic with the microphone might do, just shifted his eyes perhaps waiting for Child Services to show up. Roger excitedly asked if the boy goes to P.S. 175. He monotoned"P.S. 174" in response and shifted his eyes again (where are the cops when you need them). Clark knew that bonding time, at least with a human, was over so he signed off with his head buried in big Pikechu's shoulder. Mascots don't argue.
Monday rolls around and I turn on NY1 with a smile already plastered on my face anticipating a morning kick-off of pure Roger. What gaffs did he have in store for us? I could hardly wait. The second I saw the suit...and tie...I knew I was in for something serious. Tragically, a pet store had caught fire and many animals had been killed. Roger, and his heart and belly full of gold, almost cried on camera. Wet kittens wrapped in towels being comforted by locals was a horrible sight to behold and our man Roger covered the story with gravity. Ed Murrow in the midst of the Blitz couldn't have done it better.
This morning, I kept one eye closed as I turned on the tube. Tuesday is a grim enough day without having the one news guy you turn to for levity near tears. It's like watching Santa Claus cry or drink himself to death. But Roger didn't let me down today. Today he was covering the 10th anniversary of Pokemon at Bryant Park and kicked off the piece making some poor sap in a life-sized Pikechu costume wiggle its ears before diving into its chest and murmuring "I love you." He could have wrapped up right there, but the best was yet to come. After a brief chat with a guy who teaches kids how to score at Pokemon (sadly I don't think I ever realized it was an actual game), he interviewed a boy who looked not unlike Nicholas from "Eight Is Enough." When Roger asked him where he was from and the kid told him Forest Hills, Roger practically had a heart attack and whacked the kid Elaine Bennis-from-"Seinfeld"-style in solidarity (Clark is from Forest Hills). The kid, not knowing what other bizarre things the lunatic with the microphone might do, just shifted his eyes perhaps waiting for Child Services to show up. Roger excitedly asked if the boy goes to P.S. 175. He monotoned"P.S. 174" in response and shifted his eyes again (where are the cops when you need them). Clark knew that bonding time, at least with a human, was over so he signed off with his head buried in big Pikechu's shoulder. Mascots don't argue.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
It's Still Hot in Here
Guess what. It's still ridiculously hot here in NYC and that means Roger is still out on the street reporting on it. Today, he returned to Astoria, Queens to cover the latest power outage in that much suffering borough. Got to hand it to my main man for being able to keep it real even as he's living his own personal Groundhog Day. A few days ago he was chatting with beachcombers, today it was the folks who happened to pass through the parking lot of a local Burger King that's been closed because of a lack of power. There was the manager of that Burger King who had just started to talk when what sounded like a fog horn punctuated his sentence. Guess there was no time for a second take. Then there was the heavyset school teacher, off for the summer, in a wifebeater who was going to "refresh" in his pool. And lastly, there was Roger, dressed in a purple polo shirt that reminded me of Grimace (one of the mascots for that other famous burger chain), who closed his piece with a song based on the old Burger King commercial. Unfortunately, I've blocked out the lyrics but rest assured they were Roger-esque. He also mentioned that he'd be this particular BK's first customer when the doors finally re-open. Management can now rest easy.
Clark-o-meter: 8.5
Clark-o-meter: 8.5
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Ice, Ice Roger!
Yesterday was a bad day for Clark. More reports on the heat and the same brown polo he wears when things are looking serious. I couldn't bring myself to post anything for fear my computer might melt with boredom.
Today was a different story. Our man was out at the Chelsea Piers ice skating rink, interviewing kids and a zamboni driver about skating in the cool, cool rink when it's hot, hot outside. Notably, Roger kept himself off camera for most of the piece, opting instead to focus on cute kids doing smooth moves. For a moment I wondered if Roger had turned over a new leaf. Were all of his pieces heretofore going to be nice, sterile, uncontroversial and, dare I say, informative? And then there was the closer. Roger in a hooded stained sweatshirt and layers of black and red pants doing small turns on the ice and nearly wiping out. Things are looking up!
Clark-o-meter: 8
Today was a different story. Our man was out at the Chelsea Piers ice skating rink, interviewing kids and a zamboni driver about skating in the cool, cool rink when it's hot, hot outside. Notably, Roger kept himself off camera for most of the piece, opting instead to focus on cute kids doing smooth moves. For a moment I wondered if Roger had turned over a new leaf. Were all of his pieces heretofore going to be nice, sterile, uncontroversial and, dare I say, informative? And then there was the closer. Roger in a hooded stained sweatshirt and layers of black and red pants doing small turns on the ice and nearly wiping out. Things are looking up!
Clark-o-meter: 8
