I Heart Roger Clark

No photos...yet.

Water polo is a sport normally dominated by extremely hot men. I'm not saying that Rog doesn't have his charms, he does, and we all know my fondness for the brown polo shirt. However, yesterday's turn in the pool with the godlike St. Francis Xavier water polo team was, how do you say?, just wrong. Through the miracles of editing, we didn't have to witness Roger nearly drowning in the pool, but technology couldn't disguise the fact that he wore his special water polo cap, tied dangerously tight, and a tight grey t-shirt while conducting an interview poolside with three Serbian studs - water dripping from their rippling muscles. In all fairness, it's not easy holding one's own in the company of Greek gods, but most folks would have at least lost the swim cap. Clark looked like a Q-tip. The Serbians knew it, Pat K. knew it, and I certainly knew it. When it seemed that he might not be able to untie the cap, the camera mercifully cut back to Pat. I missed this morning's report. Hopefully he was able to cut that thing off.

Well, it's been two whole days and no Roger Clark photo has magically appeared in my inbox. That's ok. If Roger himself can persevere in the face of endless black outs, killer hot dogs, and gi-normous Pokemon characters, "I Heart Roger Clark" will carry on. Oh, it will carry on.

After listening to one of the most disgusting news reports ever this morning, I have to say that there was nothing better than seeing Roger's smiling face. Even the suit and tie didn't faze me. He chatted with Peter Gelb, who recently succeeded Joseph Volpe as the General Manager of the Metropolitan Opera, and shared a little banter with Pat about...well I was pouring myself a cup of coffee at the time so I may have missed some of the details. All I remember is something about how Roger cries at sports movies (who doesn't?) and then something about The English Patient. Pat seemed confused, I was definitely confused, but it's all good because no matter what he was talking about he wasn't talking about kids drowning in buckets of their mother's vomit. Nuff said.

This morning, Roger donned a hard hat - titlted jauntily to the side - to report from a Habitat for Humanity building site in the Bronx. A very worthy cause, I must say, and no suit required! Light banter with Pat K. about how he, regardless of his attire, doesn't know anything about construction and a little bit of miming to show exactly what he contributed to the work today (he was told to hold something). To top it all off, the usual awkward end involving Pat thanking Roger and Roger nodding and...curtain. Well done gentlemen. And Thursday is off and running!

I had a dream today. A dream that someone out there in the five boroughs had a stockpile of Roger Clark photos just laying around; so many photos he just didn't know what to do with them. A dream that showed this person sitting down with a jar of U-bet chocolate syrup, milk, and an old-tyme seltzer syphon and logging on to this blog. This person would see my desperate plea for photos, put their drink down (after finishing it of course, wouldn't want it to go flat) and search the stockpile for the perfect photo to send to me. But wait. Where should it be sent?

X marks the spot -> jen@moonfaceandwally.com.

Apparently, "I Heart Roger Clark" has some competition. Even though the kindly "Egg Cream" alerted me to this fact awhile ago in a comment - which I failed to see until today since I didn't think anyone outside of those 3 or 4 devotees read what I wrote let alone commented on it - I am only catching on now (let's blame the blond hair for this one). I have to say, it's a little bizarre that we all fell in love with Roger at approximately the same moment (the era heretofore known as B.H. or Before Hot Dog), and even used the same adjective ("lovable") to describe him (isn't he though?). So now I've got to do SOMETHING to distinguish "IHRC" from the other fan club that isn't nearly as dedicated to the growing legendary figure that is Roger Clark as I am. OK, I'm sure they're dedicated too, but I use the word "Heart" in the title of my blog which has to count for something.

I know, a picture would do quite nicely. Now where would I find one of those...Egg Cream, got any ideas?

I was going to call this post "Roger Goes to the Dogs," but that just seemed done. We try to keep our titles fresh here at "I Heart Roger Clark."

Today, Roger reported from the new, 5 million dollar ASPCA building which is supposedly fairly grand and unlike the old-fashioned shelters with rows of cages full of heartbreakingly cute animals. Not that we got to see the new building because, as is frequently the case with Clark reports, there's generally a lack of any physical activitiy. Eating does not count.

All decked out in a striped polo, Rog tried to wrangle a kitten named "Tommy" who - despite Roger's protests to the contrary - did not appear to be one of the millions of cats in the world who love him. After a brief interview with the Executive VP and brains behind the new facility (which Clark helpfully commented he'd "like to move into"), Roger stood up and started looking around for Tommy who had hidden himself underneath Roger's chair likely figuring that there was no way The Big Guy would ever exert himself enough to come looking for him. Poor Tommy. How wrong he was. After some maneuvering, and with a little help from the VP, Roger pulled Tommy from under his seat and once again had him in his clutches. Pat K. commented that Tommy looked "warm" which I think was a veiled reference to Roger's bear hug hold on the little guy. And like all Clark reports, he went out with a zinger when he leaned into the camera and said to Pat in his best faux snarl "I'll adopt him and bring him home and then he'll like me!" I'm hoping this is not a Clark dating technique.

Now I'm all confused. Once again, Roger was reporting on the anticipated traffic congestion due to the UN general assembly and the protests regarding Bushie's visit, but unlike yesterday's easy breeezy report delivered like your dad cracking wise at a family bbq in a purple polo with a bad sunburn, he was in a suit. And we all know what the suit means. Akin to the groundhog seeing his shadow, when Roger dons a suit, we're in for some depressing "real" news. So it came as a wonderful surprise when Puxatawny Rog made a joke and then another one and then another one. No they weren't funny - especially the one about steering clear of the East Side for good - but the man was on fire! Pat chuckled and I realized that Roger - still high on his comic turn at the Gotham Comedy Club - was practicing his routine for the day when reporters everywhere once again are allowed to take the stage and tell the jokes that journalistic integrity normally prohibits. Or maybe he was trying to tell me "Hey there Jen. Just because the polo shirts are in the wash, doesn't mean my sense of humor is too. I'm not afraid to put on a necktie and hang myself with it. The laughter never dies."

Stop playing with my heart, Clark. Don't confuse me and wear a suit while you're being a dork. Keep it simple: suit = boring, polo shirt = funny. Jeez, isn't it obvious?

The Real Roger Clark has returned and he's back in fine, fine form! Decked out in a purple polo shirt and sporting an awful sunburn on his face that made him look like a guy on the verge of stroking out, Roger was chipper as he reported back to the home desk on the traffic nightmare that will be accompanying the President's imminent arrival and the UN general assembly. After relaying each and every street that will be closed, Rog and Pat K. exchanged some light banter that included Roger lightheartedly referring to Bush's plans to address Iran's "pesky Uranium problem." Pat, being Pat, called him out on this and Roger, turning an even deeper shade of magenta, giggled and said something along the lines of "well, maybe it's not just pesky." More giggling from Roger, a light chuckle from Pat, and without further ado we cut to commercial. My Monday was made.

I've been remiss about writing, I'll admit. It's just that after days of "reporter voice" and what seemed like eons of suits and ties on Mr. Clark, I was spent. There was nothing left to laugh at. Roger had decided to become a serious reporter and I felt like I had been dumped.

Yesterday was my birthday and I was in a funk what with the rain and hurdling closer to middle age. I turned on NY1, purportedly to check the weather, but in reality to take myself back for just a moment to happier, more carefree days when the weather was warm and Roger Clark wasn't afraid to rap on camera. I wasn't expecting much, but then.... There he was. I should say, there IT was: the brown polo shirt was back!! Roger was wearing a raincoat and standing underneath an umbrella, but I could clearly see the brown polo shirt I had come to know, nay cherish. I have no idea what he was reporting on, I was so thrilled to not be gazing upon a three-piece suit. Nothing funny happened, at least not at that moment, but there was a glimmer of hope.

And then I woke up this morning to discover, via Pat K. and Roma Torre, that Roger had participated in a comedy showdown between reporters from throughout the city last night at Gotham Comedy Club. The event was for charity (something about greeting cards and the troops in Iraq) and Rog was representing NY1. Though we didn't get to hear any excerpts from his routine, they showed him standing on stage looking, dare I say, adorable in a t-shirt and glasses performing his little heart out. Now if he could just bring the laughter back to the early morning news, we'd be golden. Fingers crossed.

Roger, forgive me! I didn't mean it when I joked about your brown polo shirt! I LOVE your brown polo shirt! And I was only kidding when I said your laugh was goofy. I meant SEXY! SEXY!

When I saw Roger decked out in a suit and tie sporting a serious newscaster expression for the umpteenth time in I don't know how many days, my heart sunk. YESTERDAY was September 11th. TODAY is just a primary election. Bring back the polo shirt! Even Pat K. seemed confused by his gravity and tried to lighten the mood when Rog reported - in funereal tones - that there were pastries being served at one primary location at a school in Prospect Heights. Pat commented "That's your kind of primary, Roger." Roger barely managed a chuckle, let alone a giggle. Pat said "bring me back (a pastry)," to which Roger said gravely "I'll bring back one for everyone." You could almost hear the crickets. Pat thanked Clark and Clark shrugged and waited for the camera to cut. And cut it did. Along with the strings of my heart.

I am generally of the opinion that absolutely no one, except my mother and I, read anything that I write. So it came as a surprise to me when, not long after starting this blog, Mister Roger Clark and his antics disappeared from the airwaves. Sure NY1 was still there, with the likes of, god help us all, the hyper-kinetic Shelly Goldberg and The Parenting Report. I might add that Goldberg, who doesn’t seem to know anything about parenting, strikes me as perhaps a frustrated mime. Any time she talks, in that staccato speech reserved for adults trained as party clowns, I fully expect her to blow up a balloon into the shape of a dachshund. But I digress. Roger was missing and I felt wholly responsible. Perhaps he had read of my great love of his buffoonery, not to mention his polo shirts. Had my good-natured comments taken the maestro from us? Then I started hearing through the grapevine (actually from the 3 or 4 folks I know who idolize R.C. as much as I do) that he was back on the air after a two week vacation. I checked the NY1 site and sure enough there were at least 3 reports filed by The Man himself but I had missed them! How? Had he changed his schedule because he knew when I’d be watching? I was also alerted to the fact that he had foregone his usual shlumpy garb for, drumroll please, SUITS. Now I was convinced: Clark had changed his attire and his schedule to keep away from the likes of me and my poison keyboard. Maybe it’s the unemployment talking here, but I started to feel like Bruce Almighty. I was changing the world, or at least basic cable, from the comfort of my own couch.

This morning I got up, had a cup of coffee, and settled in with my all-powerful computer. Who would I blow off the air today? Just as I was starting to feel wistful and sick at the thought of changing the name of the blog to “I Hate Shelly Goldberg,” who should appear but our man in the flesh! There was Roger, at exactly the same time he had always been on, but something was different. He was wearing a suit, AND A MATCHING TIE?! I calmed myself with the notion that he was probably reporting from some important municipal event that required formal dress. No, he was reporting on the first day of school. In a suit? Hello, invasion of the body snatchers! What was going on here? Once again I thought back to my all-powerful blog. From this point forward, Roger was going to just report the facts and he was going to dress like your dad while he was doing it even if it killed him. I felt myself deflating as he gave Kristen Shaughnessy – sitting in for the irrepressible Pat Kiernan – a detailed report on the opening of public schools across the city. All without an ounce of irony. It was truly the end of days. And then, like a bolt of lightening, my hopes were restored when Roger pulled out a beanie with the spinny thing on top and put it on. He also showed off a couple of photos of himself from third grade and commented for all of us who were blind that his teeth were no longer buck to the point of absurdity. He claimed that this was an annual tradition: the donning of the beanie and the revelation of the class photos. I don’t remember it, but I’m happy to embrace it if so.

After an awkward throw back to Kristen, I felt the spring return to my step. All was right and good in the world now that Roger was back to make fun of (it.).