Talk of the Town - Anchors aweigh, my boys October 10 2001

My name is Glen, and I’m a newsaholic.

It wasn’t always that way. But times being what they are, I am tuned in and turned on, 24 hours a day. That sounds a lot more erotic than the reality, but you get the idea.

When the crisis commenced, we moved the little TV set — the one in our home office — into the bedroom. Nothing beats being lulled to sleep by images of crop dusters waiting to garnish our subdivision with a sprinkling of anthrax.

Sometimes, long about 3 a.m., I’ll wake up and tune in again, just to see if the world is still there. From the other side of the bed, comes a dissenting voice: “Shut that off!”

“Hey,” I tell her, “bin Laden isn’t catching this house with its pants down.”

If there’s one thing I’ve come to appreciate as a recent media addict, it’s the importance of a credible news anchor. The network Big Three are not up to the task.

First out the door is Dan Rather. He was an insolent punk back when Nixon was president, and he’s turned into a walking nervous breakdown. I’m supposed to admire him because he’s gotten emotional. “After all,” people say, “he cried on the ‘Letterman’ show.”

That’s my point. If there’s one guy you don’t want blubbering all over the place, it’s your anchorman.

Consider Peter Jennings. He’s composed, suave and well spoken. But he’s Canadian. Not that I have anything against Canadians, even if their pro-Castro foreign policy is predicated on a warm vacation destination. But Jennings keeps reminding you he’s Canadian. It’s the way he says “about,” pronounced “aboot” north of the border. Jennings says it three or four times every newscast. You’d think the writers could head it off.

“Our next story is aboot a man who ...”

“But what aboot the people of Afghanistan?”

“I’m just wild aboot Harry.”

Then there’s Tom Brokaw. In addition to sounding like he’s got a gym sock stuffed in each cheek, Tom has cornered the market with all this “greatest generation” book stuff about the people who won World War II. As a failed author, I consider it the height of bad form for a well-paid TV guy to also rake it in with a bestseller.

And one more thing about these anchormen that gets on my nerves: They take the entire summer off. I haven’t been on vacation that long since I was 15 years old.

No, for truly up-to-the-nanosecond reporting, I’ve chosen the hyper-kinetic budget-based operation at CNN. Mocked in recent times as a network with no news to report, the Atlanta-based communication giant is back on its game amidst world upheaval.

CNN recently redesigned its on-screen image with a format that now renders the news reader to sideshow status. The little talking head is pushed into a corner by: a) weather maps the size of a Cracker Jack prize; b) moronic e-mails (“Let’s nuke ‘em all!”) from all over the world courtesy of cnn.com; 3) the it’s-up-it’s-down numerology of Wall Street; and d) news headlines different from the ones being spouted by the wee talking noggin. Trying to take it all in can cause glaucoma.

Despite the excess of information, CNN has given me a newsman I can trust: Wolf Blitzer. It’s partially the name. Wolf: a guy who will go after the news like a beast of prey. Blitzer: And he’s fast too. Plus, the silver hair is a nice touch. You could call him the Silver Fox if his name wasn’t already Wolf.

Speaking of Fox, I neglected to mention that network’s contribution to the crisis. Near as I can tell, Fox is primarily home to a group of conservative, opinionated windbags. It’s no different from getting together with my family at Thanksgiving.

But with Wolf Blitzer leading my news team, I didn’t care. He was The Man until a friend of mine, tired of my Blitzomania, asked if I had seen “Celebrity Jeopardy” awhile back.

“What are you talking about?”

“Wolf Blitzer was on ‘Celebrity Jeopardy.’”

I was adamant: “He was not. Wolf Blitzer wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m telling you he was,” my friend insisted. “Anyway, it was for charity.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Well, it wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t good?”

“Blitzer couldn’t answer a lot of the questions.”

“Because someone answered first?”

“Because he just didn’t know.”

“Like, it wasn’t his field? I mean, who knows the answer to ‘Albanian Clarinet Quartets’ for $500?”

“No, it was worse — like he was dumb.”

This toppling of my media idol was too much to bear.

“Wolf Blitzer is not dumb. If Wolf Blitzer is dumb, then I give up. Hand the whole country over to every anarchist, terrorist and wack-job this size of Bazookastan.”

“Suit yourself,” my ex-friend said.

I don’t care what anyone says. Wold Blitzer is not dumb.

And I’ll take “Countries Ending in -stan” for $100.

An opinionated windbag in Alpharetta. Who is Glen Slattery???