I’ve always pondered the lives of journalists. Most of the time, I’m envious of their world travels, their intimacy with countless subjects and their dogged spirit. Other times… well, not so much.

Case in point: I just read a story about a prank at a Philly high school involving dozens of chickens and even more chicken feces. Over the weekend, apparently, a crafty student sneaked countless hens and roosters into the school’s halls and abandoned them until their discovery early yesterday morning. The result? Hilarity, school cancellation and one big steaming pile of soft news. (Among other big steaming piles.)

But I feel bad for any journalist who had to cover the prank. This is the kind of story where some up-and-coming AP reporter gets a call around 6 a.m. about “school crime in Philly.” In his mind, this could be the story that makes his career. He gets excited, puts on his best I-make-less-than-you-but-know-a-lot-more clothes, runs outside to hail a taxi and tells the cabbie to “make it there before those Reuters bastards.”

Then he gets to the scene and almost immediately steps in chicken shit.

So how does this poor reporter get back at his assigning editor — the guy who sent him chasing chickens? He writes his story with about as much seriousness as the situation at hand. That seems the only redeeming thing about writing soft news: as a journalist, you’re free to report using generous puns, all of them intended.

The AP report, for example, referred to this entire episode as a “fowl crime.” It went on the quote the school spokesman, who made it clear that the offending student would pay a big fine: “It won’t be chicken scratch,” he said. Nicely played.

But why did the one-liners stop there? The report could have mentioned the police, who rushed to the scene as soon as possible to gather the who, what, hen, where and why. Or how school officials suspect a male senior but don’t want to put all their eggs in one basket. Or even how the perpetrator flew the coop without leaving a shred of evidence.

All I’m saying is that a bad assignment deserves bad writing. So next time there’s a couple loose cows on campus, AP editors, give me a call. I’ll wear my crappy shoes.

(Bonus: Check out the video here. Interviews!)

Tags: big steaming piles, chickens, fowl crime

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 12th, 2008 at 2:30 pm and is filed under Philadelphia, Random. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.