I Heart Roger Clark

Now I know why Roger was giddy yesterday: he was going to have today off! And what high hopes I had for Rog donning a costume and bantering with Pat K. who, incidentally, was working a hairdo this morning that looked a lot like a small furry animal shellacked to his head. If this image doesn't work for you, picture an 80s flat top with bangs. The only thing news anchor-y about it was the incredible quantity of hairspray holding it all together.

Rog, you better have a good explanation for being off today and anything involving an "assignment" isn't going to cut it. I'm expecting a Wisconsin Cheesehead hat or something tomorrow, Clark, to make up for the fact that my fantasy of you dressing up like a hot dog or Mr. Met (or any other tiresome "character" joke I've made over the past few months) has been shot. I mean it. And you better be reporting on something we all care about like Halloween candy: better frozen (Three Musketeers) or eaten straight out of the bag (Snickers)? Or whose idea it was to hand out old pennies to Trick or Treaters. How many cases of accidental penny ingestion happen on Halloween? You get the idea.

Roger Clark is a little like the Post Office: neither rain, nor snow, nor blackouts, nor human remains in manholes, nor suits/nor ties, nor crabby producers are gonna break him, especially when it comes to food. Think about it. If postal workers got to hang out in the Seventh Avenue Deli as Roger did today, I'm thinking fewer of them would be going, well, postal. And even though Rog was wearing a suit and tie (date night with the wife perhaps?) and reporting on the possible demise of hydrogenated oils in food joints around the city, he had a smile on his face. And you want to know why? Because the trans fat isn't off the menu yet and he was standing in just the right place to "get him some." I've been to the Seventh Avenue deli many a time and it's not exactly a health food joint. As the manager said in not so many words on camera today "if the people want to stick concrete in their arteries, who am I to argue?" I have no doubt that Roger's giddiness (oh how I've missed that laugh) was due to the promise of the Lumberjack Special and a side of fries after the cameras went off. So what if KFC is dropping the trans fat from their menu? They're just hippies. Lard is still alive and well. So put a stick of butter in the mail. Your postman will thank you.

The "clampdown" of which Egg Cream spoke yesterday is clearly in full effect. Roger was in no mood for laughing today and his cashmere coat and red tie (staples nowadays) reflected this. Not that there was anything even remotely entertaining in the content of today's Roger Report: carjackings, critically injured police officers, Bathgate (in the Bronx but sounds more like a medieval town known for its hauntings and rat problems). I felt bad for our man, forced to stand in the cold with his tired eyes and frozen face. Here's hoping the next couple of days are chock full of silliness and that your producers lighten up.

I'm going to be honest. I have no idea what Roger was reporting on this morning because I walked in for the last 15 seconds. I know he was wearing a dress coat and seemed to be pretty upbeat. I also know that he said that if he missed the upcoming political debate to be broadcast on NY, moderator Dominic Carter would beat him up. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Rog tends to think that a lot of folks are looking to beat him up. If I were Clark, I'd worry less about Carter and more about Meminger who has got to still be seething from that Throgs Neck story. Now I know that Egg Cream, IHRC's Deep Throat, claims that segment was always Dean's and that Roger's absence on Monday had nothing to do with the Vendy Awards but because he was working on stories from home. Right. And Floyd The Food Guy was offed from the channel because his culinary talents were being wasted. Come on, we all know that the debacle on Monday was due to 1) Roger getting some bad Halal and 2) someone wanting to stick it to Dean. I won't muse about this any longer for I fear becoming redundant, but I'm just calling it as I see it.

On an entirely different note, I can hardly wait to see what Roger comes up with for Halloween next week. I'm hoping he and Pat K. do a little switcheroo and go as each other. Roger can do "In the Papers" and Pat can see what it's really like to be out on the cold, cold streets getting the scoop on stories so pressing that they usually air between the twilight hours of sleeping and coffee. That'll learn him.

I will never, ever go out of town again. According to one kind IHRC reader, Roger, who can now add Judge of the Vendy Awards to his illustrious resume, was the subject of Monday's report and not the reporter meaning that he undoubtedly took his judging responsibilities a little too seriously on Sunday and was laid up with what I like to call "the cart runs;" a distinctly New York phenomenon involving your stomach and an atomic bomb. Clearly Clark learned nothing from the hot dog disaster this Summer.

Apparently, ol' reliable Dean Meminger was called in to sub for Rog on the mind-bending topic of whether Throgs Neck is spelled with one G or two. Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that stoner topics such as this are not Meminger's forte. This guy did not spend any portion of his life wearing a beer helmet or sporting school colors painted on his chest, ergo he is not the dude for this gig. Bring in Debbie Duhaim, "the voice of traffic," for this one. Poor Dean must have thought that someone had switched his notecards. Next thing you know, someone's going to start sticking notes to the back of his suit. Seriously, give Dean the hard-hitting news stories and if there isn't anything on the board, make something up. Or have Clark phone in the Throgs Neck story from the can.

Maybe I'm glad I missed Monday. It sounds too painful.

Another grim day in Roger Land. Apparently, the Saturday and Sunday open air market at Aquaduct racetrack is about to be no more because the villainous Port Authority needs the parking lot. Roger seemed pretty devastated by this loss. He waxed sentimental about all the sweatshirts he used to buy at the market back when he was in college. This memory wasn't exactly what I expected. One doesn't normally think of the place that they used to buy roomy clothes with the kind of fondness that Roger expressed, but then again he is Roger Clark and this is why we love him.

To his credit, Roger did quite a mitzvah covering this story: alerting the greater metropolitan area to the fact that many vendors will be out of work just in time for the holidays because of the evil Port Authority. I'm picturing a Miracle on 34th Street end to all of this. The Port Authority gets a bunch of letters dumped on its doorstep, the market gets to stay open, Roger gets an extra special sweatshirt (not to mention a pony), and everyone believes in Santa Claus! Fingers crossed. Fingers also crossed that there aren't any more unemployment and World Trade Center stories in the near future. It's bringing me down, man.

The Mets lost the pennant to the Cardinals and Roger was reporting on new human remains from 9/11 that were recently discovered in the circumference of the World Trade Center site. Throw in the rain and chill in the air and you have a recipe for a very somber Roger Report delivered by a very somber Roger under a very large black umbrella. Sigh. Thank god the Vendy Awards are this Sunday or Roger would probably be curled up in the fetal position right about now. Good luck with the judging, Rog. May the best street cart win.

Sorry about yesterday. I was riding the Theraflu magic carpet and woke up late. Thankfully Tuesday's Roger Report, complete with a huge trophy cup and a street cart full of spicy meat, definitely kept me going until this morning.

Today we were treated to what I'll refer to as Roger: morning, noon and night. When he first called-in to Pat, it was still dark out and he was standing in front of Shea Stadium looking adorably snoozy and rumpled in his brown cordoroy jacket (dare I say, the first appearance of the season?) and tie. The Mets are heading into Game 7 against the Cardinals tonight and Rog couldn't be more excited. Apparently he was up late last night watching the game, which could explain why he called Pat K. "Fat." As in, "Hi Fat, it's Roger." I would almost bet money that this was indeed a slip of the tongue and not me continuing to linger in my cold medicine haze. Roger went on to rave about the pitching skills of the Mets' John Maine. He commented that he "loves Maine," especially "the potatoes and the lobster." Is Maine known for its potatoes? I'm thinking no. Anyway... Pat K. threw an existentialist wrench into the conversation when he commented that there would be "no tomorrow unless (the Mets) win." Roger, to his credit, tried his best to grapple with this concept and ultimately just giggled. I would have too, Roger, I would have too.

What seemed like only moments later, we were back on the scene with Roger except this time there was daylight and Roger was standing in exactly the same spot, reporting on exactly the same thing. We got to see the same man-on-the-street interviews at Joey D.'s diner in Queens where all three Joey D's employees (I have no idea if one of them was indeed THE Joey D.) looked like they were straight out of central casting for The Sopranos (even the Asian guy with the diamond stud in his ear looked like his name could have been Sal). These interviews could be used as audition tape if they should ever need it, since their individual readings of "The Mets are gonna take it in 7" was pretty convincing all around.

There was yet another stand-up with Roger at Shea that I mostly tuned out as soon as I realized that we weren't going to get any new info. I did catch Roger having a paranoid moment with Pat regarding his (Roger's) job, but we'll chalk that up to over-excitement (big night tonight) and the fact that it was barely 8 am. No more cold medicine for me. I want to be fresh for Roger's take on tonight's game. Rog, if they win, you better be sporting a foam finger and a Mets jersey tomorrow. Do it for me. Do it for the made men at Joey D's. Do it for New York.

I'm glad my cold had me up at the crack of dawn today because old skool Roger was back in full effect! Looking charmingly sleepy in his mismatched jeans and shirt combo and sporting the distinctive bloat of someone who has dined exclusively on beer the night before, Clark was out on the street, in the dark, chatting up a street vendor named Samiul Noor about the upcoming "Vendy Awards" for which he, Clark, will be a judge (why is this not surprising). The Vendy Awards honor the best street cart food in the city and, though I think there's some kind of monetary award (missed that part), there's definitely an enormous silver trophy. How do I know this? Because Roger was clutching one like it was the Heisman while trying to get a good look at the spicy halal chicken that Noor, fresh-faced for that hour of the morning and confident he was going to take home the Vendy, was cooking up. I've heard from friends that street cart meat, specifically "chicken on a stick," is pure hangover magic so I'm thinking that Roger was hoping to score some to take away his pain (I'm speculating here but it kind of looked like he was hurting). The Vendy organizer (name forgotten) who Rog interviewed seemed less than amused to be hanging on the corner in the dark and actually tried to have a serious discussion about how this award brings recognition to the hardworking vendors throughout the city. It's definitely a hard job but it was total buffoonery to lecture on the socio-economic challenges facing vendors to a chubby guy holding a trophy drooling over a grill. When we finally cut to Pat K., Roger got a major attack of the giggles the likes of which I'm not sure I've ever seen or heard. In fact, Roger was laughing so hard that their schtick was overshadowed and I can't remember what the heck set him off. Maybe Roger thought he had discovered the loophole in his job: miss a day of work, return to a trophy and free food. The delusional giggles of a Tuesday morning in Roger-Land. Keep up the good work, my man.

I'm going to come clean and admit that I was too sick and still in bed when Mister Roger gave his report this morning. Real journalists have someone else to cover for them when a cold, flu or typhoid strikes, but I am not a real reporter so I have only myself to blame for not waking up in time to see the Big Guy today. And even if I had been up, I fear the Nyquil haze would have only made for another bizarre ramble on the Wizard of Oz, or worse, a tangent on George Whipple's eyebrows and how much they completely freak me out. Guess I need my very own Gary Anthony Ramsey to cover for me when disaster strikes. Sorry Rog. Hopefully today was a slow day and you wore a dress shirt and talked to a boring politico about something really important that would have been impossible to make fun of without sounding like a complete lowlife. If I find out that there were any hilarious gaffes - anything eaten, played with, or worn - I'm coming down there and it's not going to be pretty. Have you ever seen someone wear two sweatsuits and enough VapoRub to open the sinuses of an entire borough? I thought not. It's scarier than Shelley Goldberg in a clown suit. So let's hope that by tomorrow the news is really slow and I'm not sleeping with my mouth open.

Ok, I said I wouldn't reference any more old movies in this blog, but I never said anything about old cartoons. So I'll just say that there were elements of this morning's Roger Report - on the scintillating topic of the closure of the Manhattan Bridge's lower level for a year - that reminded me of old episodes of Scooby Doo. Was it Roger's imitation of an old man growling about his dislike of the Bridge - an imitation that smacked of Scooby getting all up in Shaggy's grill? ("R-I r-on't r-ike r-uh R-anhattan R-idge!")? You've got to admit that Pat K., who enjoyed Roger's growl so much he had him repeat the joke, looks a little bit like Shaggy...with a necktie and a whole lot of Aquanet. Or perhaps it was the fact that Iris Weinshall, the Transportation Commissioner who was asked for her insights on this hard-hitting news story, looks a hell of a lot like Velma. In fact, she's a ringer for Velma. The only things she was missing were the orange turtleneck and knee socks. I got so stuck on this observation, I tuned out everything she had to say on the bridge closure itself because year-long traffic congestion is a little heavy for my constitution first thing in the morning.

With one eye open I awaited the Pat K. and Roger exchange which I had few hopes for since Rog was dressed to the nines in a long cashmere coat and blue silk tie, usually a sign that the Mystery Machine is headed straight for Dull-ville. When Roger - who is forced to put on an upbeat front for Commissioner Velma - shared that there would be a 100th anniversary party for the bridge on Sunday, Pat K. spoke for all of NYC when he almost tipped out of his chair with boredom. But Pat K. being Pat K. never misses an opportunity to leave Roger hanging so he asked him if he knew what other bridges were turning 100. Roger - like most of us except most of us aren't standing right next to the Transportation Commissioner - didn't know. Some awkward laughing and freeze frame. Give this man a Scooby Snack.

I have to apologize for yesterday's posting. A number of folks have commented on the fact that I implied that Roger had eaten Mr. Met. The kindly Egg Cream clarified for me that Roger was in fact wearing something close to five shirts - thereby adding thirty pounds to his appearance - during yesterday's report. Not entirely certain why he was dressed for the Tundra on a 60 degree day, but I won't quibble. And in fairness the camera does add ten pounds, so take away 40+ lbs. and I should have said "Roger, you need to eat something! You're wasting away. Mr. Met looks tasty..."

And then there was the issue of not correctly quoting Pat K. regarding "Pat's Pal." Apparently, it was something closer to a "pal of Pat's." Oh ok.

Lastly, someone didn't enjoy the extended Wizard of Oz metaphor. I agree, it got old, especially with the P.S. about flying monkeys. I should say that between writing yesterday's post and today's I contracted a bad cold that seems to be taking on the characteristics of typhoid fever and Ebola combined. Whatever it is, I feel like I'm on my deathbed so I'm going to blame the onset of this wretched illness for my hallucinatory post. Can't promise anything I write today will be much better, but I swear I will not reference any old movies or the cannibalism of a sports mascot.

So Roger was in serious mode/costume (grey suit / red tie) today reporting on the very tragic death of Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle in a plane crash on the Upper East Side yesterday. I've got to say, I feel for Rog. All he wanted to do was chat about his beloved Mets and, not to be macabre, but here the Yankees go grabbing the headlines again! Poor guy. Get this man a hot dog with all the fixings and a couple of Championship tickets (one for Rog, one for his "pal") no Ebay required. You deserve it, Clark. And if Pat can't make it, I'm available. As soon as the typhoid clears up.

It's a shame that the Roger Report can't be bottled and stocked in a bodega near you because every now and then it'll give you a buzz - or at least the feeling that you're somewhere over the rainbow (remember the Franciscan monk?) - better than any malt liquor out there. Case in point: today's report outside of Shea Stadium. First, there was Roger in a Met's jersey looking like, dare i say it?, he ingested Mr. Met. Perhaps it was just the cut of the shirt but it definitely looked like something (something with a baseball for a head) was hiding under there. Next stop on the NY1 Yellow Brick Road involved children in little Mets jerseys singing the line "I believe!" over and over again. Kids singing is generally something that only the singing kids' parents enjoy and this was no exception especially since the song in question was ONE line long. Roger interviewed an older guy (no idea who he was because I missed his chyron) who was with the kids and seemed pretty convinced that this "song" had kept the Mets alive and might very well carry them through to a World Series win. This is Oz after all, so you can't really blame him for hoping. The segment cut out when the kids got their hands on a microphone behind Roger and started shouting their own little Munchkin-type phrases like "Go Mets!," "I love the Mets!,:" and "Aaaahhhh!!!" at a deafening volume. Thankfully, Pat dropped a house on this scene and we cut to commercial.

Later, we returned to Roger - mercifully all by his lonesome this time - who was giddy over the fact that he no longer had to cover the Yankees. Join the club, Clark. I felt like Dorothy, and I'm sure you did too, when I realized we "weren't in the Bronx any more." But the best of all of the weirdness today was when Rog mentioned that tickets to a championship game might be available on Ebay. Pat, in an unusual break from his straightman role, tried to sucker Roger into inviting him along to any game he might score tickets to by referring to him as "Pat's Pal." Not surprisingly, Roger was confused by this so there were a couple of awkward moments until Pat blamed the producer (isn't it always the producers?) for telling him to cut it short and Roger was captured in a brief freeze-frame (vogue!). The NLCS has only just begun and I sense this can only get worse. P.S. no flying monkeys

Leave it to NY1 and our man Clark to take a story and wring it within an inch of its life. Remarkably, I'm not talking about isolated blackouts or the borough of Queens both of which got an unbelievable amount of airtime this summer, not that there's anything wrong with that. If I was sitting in my formerly air conditioned house with a freezer full of beef for a full week, I'd want some local news coverage too. I'm just saying,you've got to know when to quit otherwise things -and by things I mean Roger - start to look desperate. For example, today we got a few more updates on the Yankees and how they blew their chances to go to The Series. Roger was clad in his Bad News attire (suit and tie), minus his wedding ring which I'm assuming just means he woke up late and forgot or he was told at the last minute that he would once again be covering the Yankees screw-up and someone had to pry his finger off the shotgun in his mouth thereby removing the ring. Even with the good news that Joe Torre would probably be allowed to stay on to finish out his contract and not be replaced by Lou Pinella - a man with the face of a pugilist and the coaching skills of a guy who's been hit in the head one too many times - this story is done. As in really done. Especially since The Mets - that's right, NYC's "other team" - is still in fighting form. Funny how even sports teams can wind up as the bastard stepchild in a family. The Mets have been getting good grades and playing well with others, while The Yankees have been fighting in the playground and setting spiders on fire. But everybody LOVES the Yankees. Well Roger seemed to be at his limit today and even Pat K. couldn't argue. That's right, there were no embarassing moments and no awkward exchanges. Just a mutual agreement that this story could go no further. A sad day for news, but a great day for democracy.

Lot of Issues with a capital I going on in today's Roger Report; the kind of issues that one usually pays to discuss with someone while reclining on a couch or for free on Dr. Phil. Clark, decked out in his favorite brown suit jacket and glasses (his hot nerd look, aka The "Clark's Kent"), was ostensibly reporting on the fact that today is the last day for parents to register their children to ride the school bus. In other words moms and dads, if you don't fill out some more paperwork, your kids are hangin' with you for the rest of the day. First, does anyone else find this revelation to be more than a little depressing? Am I the only person on earth that still entertained the idea that the school bus just kind of knew where you lived, like Santa Claus or Hewlett-Packard. As if anyone watching the morning news (versus, say, cartoons) needed a reminder that they weren't five years old any more, today we're alerted to the fact that even the school bus is wrapped in bureaucratic red tape. Happy Friday!

But I digress. The real Issues that I wanted to discuss had nothing to do with my own Peter Pan complex, but the fact that Rog clearly had some childhood stuff going on. For example, today we learned that his father told him if he leaned out of a moving bus window, he might get his head cut off if he hit a telephone pole when the bus made a turn. An excellent point and one that could have easily prompted Roger to become a serial killer. We also learned that his mother (isn't it always the mothers?) made him take the subway instead of the bus during high school, a fact that seemed to get under Clark's skin. I say kudos to Mrs. Clark for keeping her son's head on his body and his pride intact since riding the bus until you're just about in college doesn't exactly reel in the chicks. Rog, you have your mom and the A train to thank for that wedding band on your finger.

We also discovered that Roger thinks that there's nothing more depressing than an empty school bus. I think what he meant to say was there's nothing more depressing than a school bus. Empty or otherwise, the big yellow bus - especially when looked at as a guillotine- is not exactly upbeat (and don't even get me started on the short bus). Let's hope that Roger's "Clark Kent" is planning on changing into some tights for some Superman action because this Friday needs a little saving.

Roger wonders where his polo shirt be at!

"I said the brown polo shirt...idiots"

There's so much to say about today's Roger Report that I don't even know where to begin and as usual it has almost nothing to do with the news (both the report and my thoughts on it). First of all, there's Roger's new hairdo. Flattops went out a couple of years ago, Clark. I'm grateful you don't have a fade, but for the love of god, there's nothing wrong with a little bit of hair gel. Secondly, WHAT'S UP WITH THE SUIT?! I let it slide yesterday, but two days in a row is inexcusable. Would it kill you to put on a pair of jeans and, at the risk of being redundant, a polo shirt? T-shirts, sweatsuits, even parachute pants (can't touch this!) are also acceptable. Now for the biggie. Is that a wedding ring on your left hand, Clark? Was that there yesterday? Did you get married this morning? If so, I will excuse the suit (not the haircut, however). I suppose congratulations are in order. Women throughout the five boroughs mourn the loss, but please tell me this does not mean you're "all grown up" now and the days of hard-hitting news stories on paintball are behind you. I'll just die!

Thankfully, the vaudeville show that is Pat K. and R.C. was in full effect or this would forever be known as Black Tuesday. I'm going to blame the fact that Kiernan The Canadian knew the words to the Yankees song - while Roger could only grin and follow along - on the fact that Clark's NECKTIE (to go with his SUIT) was tied too tight. Or perhaps this really is the New Roger: a blushing new groom who got hit with the serious stick. It's a wedding band, Roger, not a death sentence so lose the undertaker duds and get back to reporting on what we all really care about: hot dog eating contests, blackouts (make one up if you have to), water polo. And PLEASE do not let Pat outshine you in the Americana trivia department. Sweet save mentioning that you grew up right by The House That Ruth Built, but it doesn't count for anything if you can't spell Yankees. So get yourself a pair of Jams, have yourself some Freedom Fries and go out there and do what you do best. And if you don't know what that is, ask Pat.

These are the days when I seriously feel for my main man Clark. He took one for the team (Or both teams as the case may be) and stood in Union Square at the crack of dawn to find out which New York baseball team New Yorkers would be rooting for in the MLB postseason showdown. Not surprisingly, those folks who could actually string a sentence together at that hour of the morning seemed to be in favor of...both. The lack of Pat K. commentary during Roger's giggle-fest (editor's note: I get giddy too when I haven't had my coffee yet and/or I'm bored to the point of tears) seemed to indicate that A) technical difficulties shut down communication or B) the sheer tedium of the topic defied even the dullest of comic stylings.

But hands down, the best part of today's Roger Report was the man-on-the-street interviews. I can't decide who I liked more: the Asian man in the tie and baseball cap who figured now was as good a time as any to comment on the fact that baseball players are overpaid (he likes the Mets) or the guy with the "scrape" on his face that just happened to look like a wicked case of herpes (he's rooting for the Yankees). I think Guy #2 wins just because he felt he had to explain to the bleary-eyed viewing public just what the nasty purplish mark right by his mouth was even though the last thing on earth the aforementioned bleary-eyed viewing public was looking at was this dude's facial lesion. Thank you sir for forcing me to think about your bedroom habits on this fine, fine Monday morning.

So let's give it up for Rog who was not only hung out to dry by his straight man, but also risked life and limb to chat with commuters on a Monday morning about a topic that scores right up there with paint drying.

Like a spoonful of sugar or a shot glass of Crazy Horse, Roger you make everything better.