Pointed Chucks

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With what falls, from fires, floods, hail or sharp spikes, there is always a reporter, usually a girl, poorly paid, maybe an intern, at the bottom of the news

With whatever falls, fires, floods, hail or spikes, there is always a reporter, usually a girl, poorly paid, maybe an intern, literally at the bottom of the news. This comes to mind with those intrepid reporters, who endure hail storms like tennis balls, cyclones or dangerous floods, always in front of a camera. And if they didn’t get into the mountain fires, it’s because the vigilante prevented them. Risk television. In the storms and hailstorms of the past few days, there they are, trying not to get wet, or at least that the rain doesn’t perish or drag them along in the storm, telling what’s happening and what could happen.

It is surprising that the various compounds in which they enter, morning and afternoon, remain undaunted, without missing a single syllable, in the chosen place, even though it rained in the morning and in the afternoon hail breaks through the windows of the cars. And let’s not say with the torrential floods, with the water rising and rising, and they stand firm in their position, like soldiers. They are the news infantry.

And while noting from the central studio, before admitting that more than 10,000 lightning strikes were recorded, “a wonderful show”, they wait to go live with no more weapons than the station’s artichoke microphone and, at most, an umbrella. which prevents them from holding the notes they have taken in the same hand for fear that the chuzo will fall on them. And they know that the same, a few days later, they will have to go to the doors of a party headquarters to try to track down the politician of the day and yell a question at them as they slip away without answering anything. Our tribute to them all.

Source: La Verdad

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