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Animal, showing off his radio setup: I can get police, fire, highway patrol, FBI, forestry ...


Rossi: How about Linda Ronstadt?

Lou (on the phone): “I don’t care what you write about as long as it’s not what we write about. Now I have a murder story to cover and I’m sending a reporter to do it, so you can tell your girl to come on home.


Features Editor: Aw, look. To begin with, she’s not my girl, she’s a reporter, as much a reporter as anyone on your side.


Lou: Some other time, OK? I’ve got a paper to put out.


Features Editor: Oh, really? And what do you think we do here?


Lou: I have no idea. I’ve never been in a henhouse! (Hangs up).

Lou has just spent $5,000 of the Tribune’s money chasing a story that turned out to be a hoax. At the afternoon budget meeting, he suggests writing a story detailing how the paper was snookered. His fellow editors aren’t going for it. But the publisher, Mrs. Pynchon, has the final say.


Mrs. Pynchon: Run your story, Mr. Grant. And at the Tribune, we insist on accuracy. Be sure you make yourself look like a complete ass.

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Lou: A think piece? You just want to sit down and do some writin’, don’t you Rossi, hmmm? You don’t want to report — you want to show us how many words you know.