When the TV expert comes to collects the price of convience
Watching news reports on the telly can be a fairly decent way of harvesting information on local and global development. That is when you prefer doing so by being spoon fed while laying on the couch. Something I do enjoy, from time to time. No need in denying that.
The convience isn't free, though. The price is one of frustration - the I-want-to-scream kind - and you're bound to pay it sooner or later. I just did. Big time. This time it was the dreaded TV expert who came to collect.
This guy was a professor of Balkan affairs at the university of Copenhagen. A sixty-something-year-old equipped with a belly to show for it and a large, sprawling beard.
And just like the sterotype you're now imagining, he spoke abnormally slow. Leaving you with the urge to finish his sentences constantly, like you a man who stutters, but of course you couldn't.
That wasn't his worst crime, though. Not by far. This professor was saying nothing - NOTHING - that any 9th grader couldn't have, giving the obsurd leading questions the journalist was forced to come up with. Instead of dishing out rarely known facts on the Balkan conflict or explaining the differences between the parties involved, he just spurred out on lame and trivial observation after another.
However, the pity I felt for myself for having to listen to it was water compared to how sorry I felt reserved for that poor journalist interviewing him. She spend minute after minute scrambling for ways to extract just a single bit of useful information. No such luck. Every attempt failed miserably.
If only TV stations would screen their interview prospects before putting them on the air. So unsuspecting viewers, like myself, wouldn't have to suffer like I just did. I'd vote for any politician that would make it an requirement for broadcasters. That is how much I hurt.