Reporters are very different. There are some who just want to relate the facts and nothing but the truth. There are others, who try to manipulate and spin the facts to make the best story for their papers. Others just try make the facts as ridiculous and sensationalist as possible to sell more copies. I think reporters should be tested and qualified!
Good morning people and you’re watching the morning news with me, Devin Harisson, as your reporter and with my uninspired and money-grabbing endeavor in reporting you the finest shit you’d call news. Mind you, I’ve just reached my quota and I am on the verge of vacation. Once again, thank you for either not caring or just being plain stupid or tolerant of mediocrity. You have bought me the finest houses and cars, I’d just have to smile hypocritically
She stuck the pencil behind her ear with enthusiasm, another scoop! Maybe her job would finally be a success! Cheerfully, she loaded her Canon camera into the passenger seat across from her as she tried to drive to the studio without creating multiple car accidents.
Lights flashed incessantly as the tragedy unfolded in front of expensive video equipment that fed hungry networks across the nation. Someone’s worst day had turned into a spectacle for all to watch, as greedy reporters gossiped into their microphones. When cameras stopped rolling all they could think about was their next exploitable story.
A reporter, hmmmm. A reporter is basically a news anchor with a twist. They have a way of picking information from you and twisting the words into a gruesome statement that was never there, never true. But reporters are often looked at too stereotypically in the world, so that judgement can not be entirely true.
She walked along the grey sidewalk, large black camera swung around her neck, pencil stuck behind her ear. Her hands quivered with anticipation and her mind whirred with ideas for the impending interview.
reporters write words for newspapers and they lie like business men because they have to be biased enough so that their name looks alright next to the title. truth is left to stay quiet and pencils click on like tape recorders.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen caught a reporter standing among the trio of battle tanks that were slowly positioning themselves, their turrets facing in his direction. “WTF?!” thought Jensen.
A reporter is someone who goes to different places and reports news and events. I wanted to become a tv reporter when I was in high school. But, somehow was too lazy to pursue it.
Thanks for the invitation, Sally. It is not often these days that a reporter will be asked to join in a celebration of this kind. Given the role the media played in this event, it is the last thing I expected. And you impose no conditions. I find myself reacting automatically, asking myself what you want from me.
The reporter stood at the edge of the room, trying to blend in with the surroundings. He was observing the first ceremony held in the and since the iron dictator was overthrown. these people were serious about this stuff nd he was lucky to be there.
It was the ceremony of adulthood, the young boy, becoming a man, stood before an elder. The boy bowed to the elder, who bowed back. The elder then picked up the bowl and broke it over the boy’s head.
It was a fragile bowl, it broke quite easily. The contents of the bowl spilled of the nearly-naked boy. It was red and thick. It was blood.
It was symbolic, I’m sure. But it was strange to me. However, the boy had the biggest smile on his face, blood all over. He was an adult.
Reporters are some of the most biased people you will ever meet. The liberal media cannot seem to write one story that does not slam conservatives in one way or another. I wish that we could have just one unbiased story.
We’re the ones that see it all live
We get to experience that overwhelming feeling of seeing the most famous people before anyone else
We live at a fast pace
Always getting new stories
Always try to get to the audience first
WE are reporters
reporters are aggressive in nature and need to be very good at what they do to get jobs. they aren’t afraid to ask questions and they go above and beyond to get what they want.
There was a reporter that worked in Portland. Not real Portland though, fantasy Portland. He was a rabbit and had big floppy ears. He could not write well though, because, well he was a rabbit. He did like to interview his fellow cohorts and snack on carrots at the local pub. Vodka infused carrots, they were his favorite.
A reporter has the power of the pen to write about what they see fit and to lambast public opinion with their haphazard rhetoric. To report is a right.
The reporter came to my house and ask me about the cat that I have saved its life. I was very glad about the little interview, and when I was starting to telling the beautiful story, I forget that I was cooking a delic
he got out of his car thinking ‘what the hell am i doing here’
the lawn was dead, some of it wasn’t even lawn anymore, there was trash stewn about, but from the looks of it, the trash did not come from this residence, it was too nice.
‘fuckin’ great, i’m just breaking in at the paper and i probably won’t even make it through today’
Reporters are like buzzards. They feed on death and destruction. They circle overhead cawing their loud song. Living in the shadow of something sad has always been their game. They come they go, manipulating the public, and framing lies. They cannot give, only take, take, take. They feed the american public lies that smell of rotten flesh.
words are my trade, trade my mind my soul my life for letters strung together money in my pocket talons in your brain — magic in words, spells cast in circles of sound in darkness
there was once a reporter who thought that he would be able to get a better job if he wrote an amazing story about muffins and their connection to butterflies. These particular butterflies lived in south America, and they were very rare. Apparently, a woman saw one or two of them eating one of her prized blueberry muffins
the reporter looked at the man he was interviewing curiously. why wouldn’t he answer the question, he wondered. it was a simple question. not even worth pondering, but the man did so anyway.
reporters are famous for being very aggressive in their line of work, often hassling celebrities to a degree considered inhumane by many. However, journalism is important, and entirely responsible for 99% of the intake of information by those of us in western culture.
my mum for years wanted me to become some kina journalist.
and for a long time i thought i wanted to be a writer
until i realised that nobody really likes writers
even the people who say they lieke riters
And being a poet’s even worse
So, instead of calling myself a writer or reporter or poet
i just wanna be a lover.
They climb mountains and dive into oceans searching for this unspeakable truth, this dirt that clings to politician’s greasy neckties and this injustice that falls upon a woman who must give up her child to save him from an abusive home. They search out truths that no one else has the courage or means to seek in ways that can only be described in one word: honorable.
So, I was sitting there, twiddling my pen at the desk, when I had to ask myself: what was the relevance of all this? Although I occassionally covered life-changing footage, did I ever help? No. It’s a question of the right to knowledge vs the current needs.
So I quit. I can’t deal with that kind of stress. Then I went and helped.
I saw him standing on the corner of the street. Was he selectable as a person of interest. I decided not to think twice about it. If he was following me then I should at least give3 him the decency of something to report about.
The infamous reporter makes his way
Among the tragedy and despair
He must have his say
We count on the one who will tell us the truth
We count on the one who will lie too
i’ve thought that i may want to be a reporter. Traveling everywhere looking for a story that others may want to know. I would want to look for the controversial issues in different places. Controversy after all is what attracts peoples attention.
A truth teller. That’s what I thought I would be. The problem is, truth is boring. No one wants to hear the truth. And then there’s the whole philosophical quandary of what TRUTH is. Fsck that noise. All I need to be is louder and meaner and funnier than the other guy and I win. And that’s how it is. That’s how it works. You don’t like it? You try it. See what it gets you.
Someone who writes details of a person on a notepad and asks a series of questions about their lives. Someone who reports weather for a weather station such as news on 6.
A monkey took his phone and recorded, the lion pawed his mane and took the microphone between two large paws. He coughed.
“Hello” his voice rang, shrill and sing-song-ish.
Someone who reports events as they are, being directly in the moment and in contact with the event. He can be a writer or a photographer or both. His objective is to report objectively what the events are, with mild opinions in case.It can be a man or a woman. It might include dangerous situations.
Reporters are very different. There are some who just want to relate the facts and nothing but the truth. There are others, who try to manipulate and spin the facts to make the best story for their papers. Others just try make the facts as ridiculous and sensationalist as possible to sell more copies. I think reporters should be tested and qualified!
Good morning people and you’re watching the morning news with me, Devin Harisson, as your reporter and with my uninspired and money-grabbing endeavor in reporting you the finest shit you’d call news. Mind you, I’ve just reached my quota and I am on the verge of vacation. Once again, thank you for either not caring or just being plain stupid or tolerant of mediocrity. You have bought me the finest houses and cars, I’d just have to smile hypocritically
She stuck the pencil behind her ear with enthusiasm, another scoop! Maybe her job would finally be a success! Cheerfully, she loaded her Canon camera into the passenger seat across from her as she tried to drive to the studio without creating multiple car accidents.
Lights flashed incessantly as the tragedy unfolded in front of expensive video equipment that fed hungry networks across the nation. Someone’s worst day had turned into a spectacle for all to watch, as greedy reporters gossiped into their microphones. When cameras stopped rolling all they could think about was their next exploitable story.
A reporter, hmmmm. A reporter is basically a news anchor with a twist. They have a way of picking information from you and twisting the words into a gruesome statement that was never there, never true. But reporters are often looked at too stereotypically in the world, so that judgement can not be entirely true.
She walked along the grey sidewalk, large black camera swung around her neck, pencil stuck behind her ear. Her hands quivered with anticipation and her mind whirred with ideas for the impending interview.
reporters write words for newspapers and they lie like business men because they have to be biased enough so that their name looks alright next to the title. truth is left to stay quiet and pencils click on like tape recorders.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen caught a reporter standing among the trio of battle tanks that were slowly positioning themselves, their turrets facing in his direction. “WTF?!” thought Jensen.
A reporter is someone who goes to different places and reports news and events. I wanted to become a tv reporter when I was in high school. But, somehow was too lazy to pursue it.
like a reporter, dictaphone in hand
She teased out the call, wild and toothy
Thanks for the invitation, Sally. It is not often these days that a reporter will be asked to join in a celebration of this kind. Given the role the media played in this event, it is the last thing I expected. And you impose no conditions. I find myself reacting automatically, asking myself what you want from me.
The reporter stood at the edge of the room, trying to blend in with the surroundings. He was observing the first ceremony held in the and since the iron dictator was overthrown. these people were serious about this stuff nd he was lucky to be there.
It was the ceremony of adulthood, the young boy, becoming a man, stood before an elder. The boy bowed to the elder, who bowed back. The elder then picked up the bowl and broke it over the boy’s head.
It was a fragile bowl, it broke quite easily. The contents of the bowl spilled of the nearly-naked boy. It was red and thick. It was blood.
It was symbolic, I’m sure. But it was strange to me. However, the boy had the biggest smile on his face, blood all over. He was an adult.
Reporters are some of the most biased people you will ever meet. The liberal media cannot seem to write one story that does not slam conservatives in one way or another. I wish that we could have just one unbiased story.
We’re the ones that see it all live
We get to experience that overwhelming feeling of seeing the most famous people before anyone else
We live at a fast pace
Always getting new stories
Always try to get to the audience first
WE are reporters
reporters are aggressive in nature and need to be very good at what they do to get jobs. they aren’t afraid to ask questions and they go above and beyond to get what they want.
There was a reporter that worked in Portland. Not real Portland though, fantasy Portland. He was a rabbit and had big floppy ears. He could not write well though, because, well he was a rabbit. He did like to interview his fellow cohorts and snack on carrots at the local pub. Vodka infused carrots, they were his favorite.
Mighty. Magical. Verbose. Vindictive. Delusional. Deigning to give us samples of their grand observations.
newspaper investigator female shoes story news camera real fake true false
PERIODISTA INVESTIGADOR RATA LECTURA BEBE LIBRO LEER IGNORANTE ESCENA PERIÓDICO LIBROS LECTOR INTELIGENTE BELLEZA CULTURA CULTO
A reporter has the power of the pen to write about what they see fit and to lambast public opinion with their haphazard rhetoric. To report is a right.
The reporter came to my house and ask me about the cat that I have saved its life. I was very glad about the little interview, and when I was starting to telling the beautiful story, I forget that I was cooking a delic
he got out of his car thinking ‘what the hell am i doing here’
the lawn was dead, some of it wasn’t even lawn anymore, there was trash stewn about, but from the looks of it, the trash did not come from this residence, it was too nice.
‘fuckin’ great, i’m just breaking in at the paper and i probably won’t even make it through today’
Reporters are like buzzards. They feed on death and destruction. They circle overhead cawing their loud song. Living in the shadow of something sad has always been their game. They come they go, manipulating the public, and framing lies. They cannot give, only take, take, take. They feed the american public lies that smell of rotten flesh.
words are my trade, trade my mind my soul my life for letters strung together money in my pocket talons in your brain — magic in words, spells cast in circles of sound in darkness
Today on Daily News Today, head reporter Anna Luicia has the scoop on used toilet paper.
Anna over to you…
there was once a reporter who thought that he would be able to get a better job if he wrote an amazing story about muffins and their connection to butterflies. These particular butterflies lived in south America, and they were very rare. Apparently, a woman saw one or two of them eating one of her prized blueberry muffins
the reporter looked at the man he was interviewing curiously. why wouldn’t he answer the question, he wondered. it was a simple question. not even worth pondering, but the man did so anyway.
reporters are famous for being very aggressive in their line of work, often hassling celebrities to a degree considered inhumane by many. However, journalism is important, and entirely responsible for 99% of the intake of information by those of us in western culture.
The reporter retorted, “It was me that you thwarted!”
my mum for years wanted me to become some kina journalist.
and for a long time i thought i wanted to be a writer
until i realised that nobody really likes writers
even the people who say they lieke riters
And being a poet’s even worse
So, instead of calling myself a writer or reporter or poet
i just wanna be a lover.
They climb mountains and dive into oceans searching for this unspeakable truth, this dirt that clings to politician’s greasy neckties and this injustice that falls upon a woman who must give up her child to save him from an abusive home. They search out truths that no one else has the courage or means to seek in ways that can only be described in one word: honorable.
So, I was sitting there, twiddling my pen at the desk, when I had to ask myself: what was the relevance of all this? Although I occassionally covered life-changing footage, did I ever help? No. It’s a question of the right to knowledge vs the current needs.
So I quit. I can’t deal with that kind of stress. Then I went and helped.
someone taking or writing about an event that has happened or is occuring at the time. female or male. news. weather. information
I saw him standing on the corner of the street. Was he selectable as a person of interest. I decided not to think twice about it. If he was following me then I should at least give3 him the decency of something to report about.
The infamous reporter makes his way
Among the tragedy and despair
He must have his say
We count on the one who will tell us the truth
We count on the one who will lie too
i’ve thought that i may want to be a reporter. Traveling everywhere looking for a story that others may want to know. I would want to look for the controversial issues in different places. Controversy after all is what attracts peoples attention.
A truth teller. That’s what I thought I would be. The problem is, truth is boring. No one wants to hear the truth. And then there’s the whole philosophical quandary of what TRUTH is. Fsck that noise. All I need to be is louder and meaner and funnier than the other guy and I win. And that’s how it is. That’s how it works. You don’t like it? You try it. See what it gets you.
Someone who writes details of a person on a notepad and asks a series of questions about their lives. Someone who reports weather for a weather station such as news on 6.
A monkey took his phone and recorded, the lion pawed his mane and took the microphone between two large paws. He coughed.
“Hello” his voice rang, shrill and sing-song-ish.
Someone who reports events as they are, being directly in the moment and in contact with the event. He can be a writer or a photographer or both. His objective is to report objectively what the events are, with mild opinions in case.It can be a man or a woman. It might include dangerous situations.