The New Amsterdam Daily (Politcal Satire/Comedy RP) IC

[Voxija]

James Solomon

Solomon had two people who both wanted the same job. He looked at DeMarcus. Then he looked at Arusha. Then he turned back to DeMarcus. Then back to Arusha. They were both equally qualified. So, he did what any sane person in his position would do. Toss a coin. Heads for Demarcus, tails for Arusha. He flipped the coin where everyone in the bullpen could see. He caught it, put his hand over it quickly, and looked at the coin. It was tails-up, Arusha had gotten the job.

Arusha almost laughed. She got the job to look out for a new candidate—a new candidate?—solely by flipping a coin. And then a moment of panic set upon her. Was she prepared for this job? Was it too much responsibility? And then Arusha decided to accept.

"Yes, sure, I'll do that." And without any notion about how office politics might punish her for this, she handed her printed manuscript. "I have this interview about the average New Yorker or something."

[Caliland]

"Yes, sure, I'll do that." And without any notion about how office politics might punish her for this, she handed her printed manuscript. "I have this interview about the average New Yorker or something."

James Solomon

"Great, I'll take it" said James, handing the manuscript to Tim for fact-checking.

Tim Grant

"Jamesh, there'sh thish article I wash reading, and it contained shome major inaccurashiesh" he said as James Solomon was holding in a laugh at Tim's accent.

---

Across town, the glittering offices of The New York Tribune

"Mr. McKloskey, Mr. McKloskey!" shouted a frantic intern running after the editor. "What?!" asked Kirk McKloskey, the editor of the Tribune. "I-I-it's the New Amsterdam Daily!" said the intern. "Oh, finally closing down is it?" asked Kirk. "No, the-they-the front page" stammered the intern, showing his editor the front page of the Daily. Kirk spit out his decaf coffee instantly. "How the hell did they get those pictures!?" shouted McKloskey. He then noticed the small print in the lower right-hand corner. 'Pictures by Marlon Yates' it said. McKloskey clenched his fist and crumpled the copy of the Daily. "Get me, you know who" he said. "No, I don't know who" said the intern. "Yes you do!" said McKloskey. "Oh, your wife?" asked the intern. "No, I mean, you know who" said Kirk. "Your ex-wife?" asked the intern. "NO!" shouted McKloskey. "Your girlfriend?" asked the intern. McKloskey stormed away.

[Constaniana]

Day 2, the offices of The New Amsterdam Daily
James Solomon

James Solomon grinned with pride as he read the front page of The New Amsterdam Daily that day. The headline "Tom Ward: Fighter or Lover?" over a picture of him kicking a guy, and one of him kissing rival candidate Sonia Stevens. "This is better than the one we got of that candidate pretending to be King Kong on the Empire State a few years ago" he said to himself. Solomon went down to the bullpen where everybody was that morning to hand out assignments. Gerard, I need you to cancel that review of that uppity place run by a Michelin star-chef, and review a spot called "Billy Bob's BBQ n' Burgers" it's where one of the gubernatorial candidates likes to eat when he's in town. Politics writers, I need interviews, I don't care if they're with the candidates' kindergarten teachers, doctors, or dogwalkers. DeMarcus, Jack Dawson is considering buying the Mets, I want the latest. Marlon, go with DeMarcus. Phil, I need you to cover for Geoff, the Wall Street correspondent, he quit this morning" he said as he walked down the room pointing at people dramatically.

"Every day brings a fresh torment to bear," griped Gerard upon hearing that once again he was being denied the chance to try attempts at proper cooking. He ruminated for a bit while DeMarcus and Arusha sparred for who would start reporting on social media trends. That was a domain that held no appeal for him, being perceived by the Frenchman as yet another sinister method for America to export her vapidness and dimwittedness to the rest of the world, on a scale a thousand time greater than television and Hollywood. Soon enough he regained his composure, and spoke aloud to his boss.

"Monsieur Solomon, which candidate should I anticipate meeting at le Billy Bob's? Is it Will Edwards? Or is the Wall Street tycoon Larry Russell trying to win the approval of the Third Estate by eating low-class food?"

[Caliland]

"Every day brings a fresh torment to bear," griped Gerard upon hearing that once again he was being denied the chance to try attempts at proper cooking. He ruminated for a bit while DeMarcus and Arusha sparred for who would start reporting on social media trends. That was a domain that held no appeal for him, being perceived by the Frenchman as yet another sinister method for America to export her vapidness and dimwittedness to the rest of the world, on a scale a thousand time greater than television and Hollywood. Soon enough he regained his composure, and spoke aloud to his boss.

"Monsieur Solomon, which candidate should I anticipate meeting at le Billy Bob's? Is it Will Edwards? Or is the Wall Street tycoon Larry Russell trying to win the approval of the Third Estate by eating low-class food?"

James Solomon

"It's Will Edwards, he's from the wilds of Upstate." said Solomon. It was true. Will Edwards was from the rural backwoods of Upstate New York, a place Manhattanites spoke of only in whispers, rumored to have no cabs, or sirens, or garbage. Or even electricity or running water. Of course that's not true, but to a city slicker like Solomon, that's what came to mind. "The guy probably has a beard, and a plaid shirt, and a revolver belt." joked Solomon. "He might actually have that" he thought to himself. "Since the guy supports guns and probably uses it to shoot the bears up there" he thought. "Larry Russel wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that." said Solomon.

[Talchyon]

After the meeting
DeMarcus Clark, NFL reporter

So, whatever the boss had in mind for social media reporting, wasn't to be his task. Nope. DeMarcus was still stuck with Marlon. He supposed there were worse things that could happen. Like having to be a fan of the Jaguars for example.

James Solomon

Solomon had two people who both wanted the same job. He looked at DeMarcus. Then he looked at Arusha. Then he turned back to DeMarcus. Then back to Arusha. They were both equally qualified. So, he did what any sane person in his position would do. Toss a coin. Heads for Demarcus, tails for Arusha. He flipped the coin where everyone in the bullpen could see. He caught it, put his hand over it quickly, and looked at the coin. It was tails-up, Arusha had gotten the job.

Marlon walked up behind DeMarcus and clapped his hand onto his shoulder.

"You can't get rid of me that easy! Looks like we'll be working together, pal."

He pulled a bag of croutons out of his bag and offered one to DeMarcus.

"Crouton?"

DeMarcus just stared at the piece of hardened, seasoned breadcube and said, "Uh, no thanks. So, we should probably find out where this guy is that we're looking for. Jack Dawson who supposedly wants to buy the Mets. Don't suppose you're good with a computer and a search engine?"

[Madrinpoor]

After the meeting
DeMarcus Clark, NFL reporter

So, whatever the boss had in mind for social media reporting, wasn't to be his task. Nope. DeMarcus was still stuck with Marlon. He supposed there were worse things that could happen. Like having to be a fan of the Jaguars for example.

Marlon walked up behind DeMarcus and clapped his hand onto his shoulder.

"You can't get rid of me that easy! Looks like we'll be working together, pal."

He pulled a bag of croutons out of his bag and offered one to DeMarcus.

"Crouton?"

DeMarcus just stared at the piece of hardened, seasoned breadcube and said, "Uh, no thanks. So, we should probably find out where this guy is that we're looking for. Jack Dawson who supposedly wants to buy the Mets. Don't suppose you're good with a computer and a search engine?"

Marlon rolled his eyes and started walking towards the door.

"Google is for bloggers. Real reporters get down there live. Let's go."

[Voxija]

Arusha Washington

With her article out of the way for now, Arusha started brainstorming ways to get a handle on this social media influencer candidate. Roy Greenfield (she was getting tired of calling him a Zionist) would have to wait for now. After only fifteen minutes of brainstorming, Arusha just came up with the idea of googling "influencer mayor candidate" and see what came up.

Arusha got at least a million results immediately about some lady named Brianna Juniper. She was a very popular influencer, and running for mayor of NYC. Yes, she seemed to be the candidate ...Solomon! was looking for.

As Arusha read more of Brianna's social media posts and learned more about the campaign, Arusha's mental state descended into horror. Brianna had promised free phones to everyone in New York, a free trip to Fiji to everyone who voted for her, and cultural assimilation of everyone unstylish. Well, Brianna didn't say "cultural assimilation" in those words, but Arusha knew how to read between the lines. Oh God. Oh God. She was even worse than most politicians.

Arusha wrote everything she had read about Brianna in her phone. Of course, she couldn't use just the Internet as her source. Arusha had to do more research. And she had to interview this Brianna Juniper. And possibly tease Jody about her career using this candidate. This would make the most horrifying, but craziest and most interesting story ever.

[Nova Catania]

Phil Goldman

“So do I interview someone in Wall Street?” asked Phil, confused as to his assignment.

Gene Clark

Gene was late, because his car had broken down, so he had to take the subway, but he got lost, and when finally got to the office, he had missed what the assignments were.

“Sorry I’m late boss, what’re we covering today?” asked Gene, rushing to his desk.

[Caliland]

Phil Goldman

“So do I interview someone in Wall Street?” asked Phil, confused as to his assignment.

Gene Clark

Gene was late, because his car had broken down, so he had to take the subway, but he got lost, and when finally got to the office, he had missed what the assignments were.

“Sorry I’m late boss, what’re we covering today?” asked Gene, rushing to his desk.

James Solomon

"Phil, you're interviewing Tony Phillips, Geoff's contact." said Solomon. He then walked over to Gene, and said, "You can go with..." Solomon looked around, and tapped his pencil. "Anyone want to be Gene's partner?"

[Talchyon]

After the meeting, stuck with Marlon
DeMarcus Clark, NFL reporter

"We should probably find out where this guy is that we're looking for. Jack Dawson who supposedly wants to buy the Mets. Don't suppose you're good with a computer and a search engine?"

Marlon rolled his eyes and started walking towards the door.

"Google is for bloggers. Real reporters get down there live. Let's go."

DeMarcus just shook his head. "But we don't know where there is. That's why we were going to find out, on a search engine. That's what you do with search engines. Find things out. Man."

Getting on his phone, DeMarcus searched for Jack Dawson's schedule. As it turned out, he was going to be having a town hall meeting in a half an hour. At, coincidentally, a town hall. One of the many NYC had.

Telling Marlon, "Ok. Found our guy's schedule. We need to get to the town hall on 79th Street. You're driving." And DeMarcus got his coat and headed out to Marlon's car.

[Madrinpoor]

After the meeting, stuck with Marlon
DeMarcus Clark, NFL reporter

Marlon rolled his eyes and started walking towards the door.

"Google is for bloggers. Real reporters get down there live. Let's go."

DeMarcus just shook his head. "But we don't know where there is. That's why we were going to find out, on a search engine. That's what you do with search engines. Find things out. Man."

Getting on his phone, DeMarcus searched for Jack Dawson's schedule. As it turned out, he was going to be having a town hall meeting in a half an hour. At, coincidentally, a town hall. One of the many NYC had.

Telling Marlon, "Ok. Found our guy's schedule. We need to get to the town hall on 79th Street. You're driving." And DeMarcus got his coat and headed out to Marlon's car.

Marlon started laughing.

"I don't have a car! This is New York, silly goose. Let's take the subway."

Marlon headed for the subway.

[Voxija]

Arusha Washington

Thankfully, Brianna Juniper was on the same social media platform that Arusha was on. Arusha sent a DM to Brianna , pondered about how only three people followed Arusha despite her interesting content, while Brianna got a million likes on every post despite... being an idiot. That's what Arusha could tell, anyway. She had vaguely heard of this person, maybe from Jody Collier listing a bunch of famous influencers.

While waiting for Brianna Juniper to respond, Arusha Washington got a snack at a halal food cart. She really loved Arabic food. And Turkish, and Iranian, and even Indonesian food. Not everyone who ate halal was Arabic, you know. Twenty minutes after Arusha had finished her food, she finally got a reply back. "Will Brianna want to?" Arusha muttered to herself.

"I want more people to love me, like, for publicity, so whatever," Brianna sent back. "What's a newspaper and do people still listen to those?"

I hate you, Arusha thought. But still she sent another question to Brianna.

"What's your stance on crime? The crime rate in this city is still too high—" in the opinion of the right "—and what will you do to reduce it?"

The reply came surprisingly quick considering last time. "I think that crime is caused by poor people being too poor," Brianna had said. "And so I will give the poor a free mansion and so they won't do crimes anymore."

Arusha winced. Her present stance on crime was a more eloquently spoken version of the same principle Brianna had. Maybe Arusha should change that.
Arusha continued reading, and was even more horrified.

"But the worst crime ever is fashion crimes, like, like wearing white after Labor Day. We need a literal fashion police uwu."

Uwu? UwU?!? The fashion police was bad enough, but apparently Brianna Juniper was a furry. With a sigh, Arusha asked Brianna many more questions, and got many more answers, each as inane as the next. With anger in her heart, Arusha wrote one last DM, "Why do you even want this job anyway?"

"Because I'd be good at it," replied Brianna Juniper. "The greatest!"

Arusha was tempted to growl angrily. At least the reporter had enough material for a good juicy article. If she was angry, how angry would the one reader of the New Amsterdam Daily would be?

[Hopal]

Martha McDow

Martha McDow woke up very late today. After submitting her article on the Mayor's heart attack, she had gone out for a night of parties some of her old college friends, they'd gone to a few nightclubs, drank a lot of booze, and danced into the early morning, and that was all she remembered. Now she was paying the price for that late night, sleeping in until past 10, she had hit the snooze button of her alarm exactly 16, (and yes she had an alarm set to 7, and everyday she hit snooze on it at least once). When she finally woke she had a terrible headache and took some pills, which she didn't exactly know what they were or what they did, but she did know they cured hangovers, or at least lessened their impact.

When she finally came to her senses and saw the time, she panicked, this was not a good look when she was trying to get a promotion. She changed into the first clothes that she could find as fast as she could and rushed to the office, hoping that her hangover wouldn't affect her work.

She came into the office panting, rushing straight to her desk, receiving a few puzzled looks from the secretary and some of her colleagues, but she didn't care to notice. She took a relieved deep breath once she got to her desk, and realizing her drowsiness made herself a cup of coffee, as she always did when she got to her office. After chugging down her cup of coffee and calming her nerves, she sighed, relieved.

Solomon hasn't noticed, she thought to herself.

After gathering her thoughts she saw the intern, whose name no one seemed to be able to remember walk by. She called out to him, "You, yes you, the intern. Come here."

"Maam" the intern said as he walked to her desk looking at Martha meekly.

"What's you name?"

"Liam, Maam"

"Yes, Liam. Did Mr. Solomon leave any instructions or assignments for me?"

"I don't think so, Maam. He said he wanted the political writers to get interviews. I don't care if they're with the candidates' kindergarten teachers, doctors, or dogwalkers, was what he said." The intern said imitating Solomon.

"Thank you, what's your name again?"

"Liam, Maam" the boy said before walking away.

What a strange boy, Martha thought to herself before getting on with her business.

If Solomon wanted interviews, he would interviews, Martha thought to herself. She emailed John Martinson's office requested an interview, she wanted to talk with to him because of the whole business of the Mayor's heart attack and him taking over his responsibilities. Then seeing the front page of today's edition of the New Amsterdam Daily on Brady's desk and with the big Ward-Stevens scandal she decided she would try to get the candidates' comments on this. She reached out to Danny Miller's campaign offices asking for comment and requesting an interview and to Tom Ward's and Sonia Stevens' campaign offices asking for comment. Finally digging through an old contact book that she never used, she didn't want to clutter her contacts with numbers she'd never use, she found the number of John Martinson's old Chief of Staff, from when he was first elected to Council. She'd gotten this number a while when she first came to City Hall but had never used it, she decided this'd be a good time to ask for an interview, she thought it might help her get into the mind of the Acting Mayor.

"Anyone want to be Gene's partner?"

"What's his assignment?" Martha asked.

[Constaniana]

James Solomon

"It's Will Edwards, he's from the wilds of Upstate." said Solomon. It was true. Will Edwards was from the rural backwoods of Upstate New York, a place Manhattanites spoke of only in whispers, rumored to have no cabs, or sirens, or garbage. Or even electricity or running water. Of course that's not true, but to a city slicker like Solomon, that's what came to mind. "The guy probably has a beard, and a plaid shirt, and a revolver belt." joked Solomon. "He might actually have that" he thought to himself. "Since the guy supports guns and probably uses it to shoot the bears up there" he thought. "Larry Russel wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that." said Solomon.

"Ah, un un homme sauvage..." mused Gerard. Strangely enough, he felt a twinge of diminished antipathy towards this Will Edwards character. Maybe it was his disdain for the culinary ineptitude of the prideful city-folk had grown so great that he was perhaps willing to tolerate the country bumpkins if they made their mutual foe very uncomfortable. Time would tell if he could contain his disdain for a non-French lifeform, "What arrondissement shall I find Monseierur Edwards and Billy Bob's BBQ & Igloos?"

[Caliland]

"What's his assignment?" Martha asked.

Tim Grant

"Man on the shtreet interviewsh, getting the opinionsh of a diversh group of people" said Tim.

James Solomon

"What arrondissement shall I find Monseierur Edwards and Billy Bob's BBQ & Igloos?"

"It's in Brooklyn" responded James.

[Constaniana]

"What's his assignment?" Martha asked.

Tim Grant

"Man on the shtreet interviewsh, getting the opinionsh of a diversh group of people" said Tim.

James Solomon

"What arrondissement shall I find Monseierur Edwards and Billy Bob's BBQ & Igloos?"

"It's in Brooklyn" responded James.

"Ah, le Brooklyn..." Gerard replied, nodding his head in pseudo-understanding. Truth be told, he still didn't really understand the difference between the various bits of the city, aside from everyone sneering down at Staten Island for some reason. To him the inter-borough infighting resembled crabs pulling each other down when one tried to crawl out of the bucket, if the crabs were all loud and rude. The irony of him mentally complaining about New Yorker's rudeness while he himself was as rude as any of them was undetected by him. At any rate, at least he had a name of the area he was supposed to go to, and could now find it on a map.

It seemed the meeting was breaking up, with some of his coworkers going their separate ways already to fufill their latest assignments. However, a thought about what had happened yesterday with Tom Ward and Sonia Stevens having their sinful meeting at the Ethical Chickpea (sinful because no decent person should have chosen to eat there) kept intruding in his mind. He had only barely missed the offending couple by a matter of minutes. If he had waited some more he might have been the one to break the next day's headlines. Such a turn of events could have put quite a few Euros in his pockets. One obstacle that stood in his way was the knowledge that he did not have a camera with which to discreetly collect the needed evidence.

"Does anybody have a good camera I could borrow?" The Frenchman asked his various coworkers.

[Caliland]

Latimer, or maybe Levi, the intern (Liam)

Liam gently tapped James Solomon’s shoulder as he was going back up to his office. “Sir, the contact in Senator Michaels’ office says she is holding a press conference to endorse a candidate in each race”. Said Liam.

James Solomon

“Great Scott” exclaimed the editor. “Senator Lisa Michaels is a vary influential person, and she is prone to breaking rank with her party, she’ll have a hell of an impact on this election.” He continued. Solomon then rushed back into the bullpen, and asked loudly: “Who wants to go to Senator Michaels press conference?”

[Constaniana]

Latimer, or maybe Levi, the intern (Liam)

Liam gently tapped James Solomon’s shoulder as he was going back up to his office. “Sir, the contact in Senator Michaels’ office says she is holding a press conference to endorse a candidate in each race”. Said Liam.

James Solomon

“Great Scott” exclaimed the editor. “Senator Lisa Michaels is a vary influential person, and she is prone to breaking rank with her party, she’ll have a hell of an impact on this election.” He continued. Solomon then rushed back into the bullpen, and asked loudly: “Who wants to go to Senator Michaels press conference?”

Only a few moments after Monsieur Orgueilleux had asked regarding a camera, Monsieur Salomon returned to the bullpen with his urgent question. The loudness of his patron's voice derailed his train de pensée, but a second later the old French soldier was formulating a new plan in his head. He could already imagine what Billy Bob's BBQ n' Burgers might serve: old beef that was 90% fat, drenched in a mixture of tomato sauce, high fructose corn syrup, and liquid smoke upon a bed of soggy bread from Le Walmart, all deep fried in plastic Kr*ft so-called "cheese". He could already feel the heart attack that would result from eating such "cuisine". He had no real interest in Senator Lisa Michel, since she was not a chef or restaurateur, but he had an interest in returning alive to France.

"I am interested, Monsieur. I will handle zis with ze utmost tact," replied Gerard.

[Caliland]

Only a few moments after Monsieur Orgueilleux had asked regarding a camera, Monsieur Salomon returned to the bullpen with his urgent question. The loudness of his patron's voice derailed his train de pensée, but a second later the old French soldier was formulating a new plan in his head. He could already imagine what Billy Bob's BBQ n' Burgers might serve: old beef that was 90% fat, drenched in a mixture of tomato sauce, high fructose corn syrup, and liquid smoke upon a bed of soggy bread from Le Walmart, all deep fried in plastic Kr*ft so-called "cheese". He could already feel the heart attack that would result from eating such "cuisine". He had no real interest in Senator Lisa Michel, since she was not a chef or restaurateur, but he had an interest in returning alive to France.

"I am interested, Monsieur. I will handle zis with ze utmost tact," replied Gerard.

James Solomon

"Sorry Gerard, that review is important. And since none of you seem to want to go to the press conference, I'll do it!" said James Solomon. The real reason he had turned Gerard down for the press conference was to see what he would make of Billy Bob's BBQ n' Burgers. He knew the foreign critic would have a field day with the 'Murican cuisine served there. Good, entertaining, paper-selling material.

Tim Grant

"Sholomon" said Tim to his friend. "A word." He motioned him over. "Ish thish really a good idea? You haven't been a reporter for 10 yearsh." He cautioned. But James shrugged him off, went and got his old press pass. "The resht of you lot, heard the bossh, let'sh get to work!" he said to his fellow employees.

[Nova Catania]

Phil Goldman

Phil rode the subway to the New York Stock Exchange. On the way, he pondered about which Wall Street conspiracy he would question his source on. Arriving there, he was pushed around by crowds of stockbrokers. He walked up to one, who wasn't one the phone, or fretting over MSNBC.

"Excuse me, I'm from the New Amsterdam Daily, I'm looking for a Tony Phillips?" he asked.

The man pointed him over to a station where computers, TVs and phones were. He saw a name tag read T. Phillips.

"Excuse me Mr. Phillips, I'm Phil Goldman from the New Amsterdam Daily, I need an interview." he said to the guy.

Tony Phillips, a young scrawny fellow looked at Phil, and asked: "Where's Geoff?"

"Quit." said Phil, matter-of-factly.

"Let's talk somewhere away from the chaos of the trading floor." said Tony Phillips.

The two went to Tony's office. Then Phil went into interrogation mode. Pounding the desk, shining a lamp in Tony's face he asked: "Alright, what REALLY happened in '08?!"

A bewildered Tony covered his eyes with his hand to shade them from the lamp. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't gimme that! You purposely set up the crash! Now talk!" barked Phil, descending into full conspiracy mode.

Tony, still shielding his eyes from the light, said: "I don't know what you're talking about"

Phil stepped away for a moment, and decided to try Good Cop this time. He sat on the desk, put a hand on Tony's shoulder, and offered him a mint. Tony cautiously took the mint.

"Listen, I get it. Your superiors want to keep it under wraps. They'll probably whack anyone to talks. Don't worry son, it's alright." he said, calmly.

"I'm just gonna leave." said Tony Phillips, getting up, and leaving. He ran as soon as he left the office.

So, Phil has no story, and he's made a fool of himself, maybe Gene Clark will have better luck.

Gene Clark

Gene took a cab to an Italian restaurant he often frequented. Marciano's was owned by a man named Salvatore Marciano. Not the kind of guy you wanna owe money to. But, Gene's family were friends of the Marcianos.

"Hey, Fat Louie, how you doing? How's the wife?" said Gene to a man who met him at the door.

Fat Louie responded: "Doing good Gene. Here to see Sal?"

"Yeah, you know, reporter stuff." replied Gene.

Fat Louie led Gene to the backroom, where Salvatore Marciano was seated at a desk.

"Eugene. What brings you-a here, old friend?" asked Salvatore in his Italian accent.

"Gotta do interviews about the election." he said.

"You must be-a starved" said Sal.

"Oh heck yeah" said Gene.

"Susan! Eugene is here, bring out some-a food-a!" snapped old Sal to someone.

Moments later, Sal's wife Susan brought out a smorgasboard of food. Chicken parmesan, shrimp scampi, stuffed pasta shells and more.

"Mangia!" said Susan, after she brought out the food.

"So, the election. I have-a no particular favorites. But that Jack Dawson guy is funny, wouldn't mind him being mayor."

Gene looked up at Salvatore from the plate of chicken parm he was enthusiastically eating. Swallowing before he spoke, he asked:

"What's wrong with the other 3?"

"Martinson's a, how you say, goodie two-shoes. Greenfield will spend to much on police, not there's a particular reason that worries me." Sal was quick to establish.

"And the kid, she's too young and inexperienced to be mayor." he finished.

Gene wrote that down as he started on the shrimp dish.

"What about city council?" he asked.

"Easy, Ward. I don't trust lawyers, but he's a better lawyer than my last one. Remember that last trial Louie?" he said.

"And governor?" asked Gene

"Don't care. Capelli from across town'll probably buy em." he said.

"Well, I think I've got all I need." said Gene, patting his stomach. "Can I take some of this home?" he added.

"Sure" said Salvatore. "Just one thing" he added.

"No naming names, eh?" he said, in a non-threatening, but yet technically a threat way

"Of course" responded Gene.

With that, Gene left for the office to compose his article.

[Barapam]

A well-dressed blonde with a noticeable goggle tan had entered the building and was heading for Solomon's office, only to discover upon her arrival there that the man was out. Seriously? If Julia von Ditz hadn't already been frustrated before, she was now. He had ordered her to immediately come back from Europe, and then he wasn't even here to meet her! It's not like he would be out doing actual journalism all by himself, so Julia couldn't see any reason for the absence of her boss. Unbeknownst to her, she had just missed him.

"I could've still been in the Bavarian Alps, skiing with the king of Thailand, instead of rushing here..." she muttered. Sure, she had already exceeded her expense account, but her personal fortune could cover it. And no, she hadn't exactly "rushed", but she'd come back to the States within reasonable time at least. And yes, she had already enough material for her article, but come on... Cover local boring New York politics or keep skiing in the freaking Bavarian Alps, with the freaking king of Thailand? Honestly, Julia couldn't see how anyone would choose the former out of their own free will.

She sighed, and decided to use the time finish her article. It was a big article, dealing with the important issues. No, not the fact that Thailand was a military dictatorship that regularly supressed pro-democracy demonstrations. Neither was the article about how Thailand had among the toughest lèse-majesté in the world, or the ethics about the king having a harem in the 21st century, or his stormy marriages, or the time he went to a mall in Munich wearing little more than a crop top and fake tattoos... No, the article was about king Vajiralongkorn's big love of dogs. He had brought 30 poodles with him for his stay in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and Julia had gotten lots of lovely photos! She would also write about the king's charity for stray dogs, and tie it in with how his father, who also loved dogs, adopted a stray dog and wrote a book about said dog. Julia would of course also include Fufu, the king's beloved late poodle who mas made a high-ranking officer of the Royal Thai Air Force and given a cute uniform!

The royal correspondent went to her office, which was nicer than many of the others in the building, thanks to a donation her family had given the paper once she started there. She then got working.

[Caliland]

A well-dressed blonde with a noticeable goggle tan had entered the building and was heading for Solomon's office, only to discover upon her arrival there that the man was out. Seriously? If Julia von Ditz hadn't already been frustrated before, she was now. He had ordered her to immediately come back from Europe, and then he wasn't even here to meet her! It's not like he would be out doing actual journalism all by himself, so Julia couldn't see any reason for the absence of her boss. Unbeknownst to her, she had just missed him.

The royal correspondent went to her office, which was nicer than many of the others in the building, thanks to a donation her family had given the paper once she started there. She then got working.

Tim Grant

"Ah, Missh von Ditsh. Sholomon shaysh he wantsh interviewsh with people. I've drafted a lisht for all the writersh. Thish takesh priority over whatever you were going to do." said Tim as Julia walked into the bullpen. He had a like-hate relationship with her. He liked having another European (I mean someone from Europe, not a Brexit thing, sorry Brits no offense) around, including Gerard. But he hated how un-relevant her articles were. But that wasn't the main thing on his mind. For once in his life Tim Grant was glued to his phone like a teenager. He was too embarrassed to say why. So, he went to the breakroom for help with his conundrum: he was setting up a dating app profile on a recommendation from his nephew.

[Barapam]

A well-dressed blonde with a noticeable goggle tan had entered the building and was heading for Solomon's office, only to discover upon her arrival there that the man was out. Seriously? If Julia von Ditz hadn't already been frustrated before, she was now. He had ordered her to immediately come back from Europe, and then he wasn't even here to meet her! It's not like he would be out doing actual journalism all by himself, so Julia couldn't see any reason for the absence of her boss. Unbeknownst to her, she had just missed him.

The royal correspondent went to her office, which was nicer than many of the others in the building, thanks to a donation her family had given the paper once she started there. She then got working.

Tim Grant

"Ah, Missh von Ditsh. Sholomon shaysh he wantsh interviewsh with people. I've drafted a lisht for all the writersh. Thish takesh priority over whatever you were going to do." said Tim as Julia walked into the bullpen. He had a like-hate relationship with her. He liked having another European (I mean someone from Europe, not a Brexit thing, sorry Brits no offense) around, including Gerard. But he hated how un-relevant her articles were. But that wasn't the main thing on his mind. For once in his life Tim Grant was glued to his phone like a teenager. He was too embarrassed to say why. So, he went to the breakroom for help with his conundrum: he was setting up a dating app profile on a recommendation from his nephew.

"What? But people have a right to know about the king of Siam and his pets!" Julia countered, and used the old name for Thailand on purpose, conservative as she was. And while she might be technically correct in what she said, it was a different matter if there was any actual urgent need or interest among the public for such news, even if Julia's articles often were clickworthy, and thus helped to boost the paper's sales, regardless of how irrelevant Grant found them. At least that's how it used to be when it wasn't election times.

Another reason for Julia's protest was that she preferred to finish the projects she had started, rather than juggle several at once. That was partially because of Julia's special kind of laziness. One project at a time equated less work, and also meant that the work she'd put in gave a result, rather than having been done in vain. As she saw it, scrapped articles meant that the whole effort had been wasted to begin with, and there were few things she disliked more than that. So that's why Julia von Ditz disobeyed Grant's order, and went off to finish her piece anyway. Julia regarded Grant almost as a father figure, partially a mentor, an experienced sage, but at the same time also someone that you didn't always had to listen to...

Afterwards, she went to the breakroom for a cup of coffee and maybe a snack. Tim Grant was still there.

"Ah, good to see you here!" she said to him, and went to fill her cup. "I was wondering about the list you gave me. Are those the names of the candidates? Have any already been interviewed by us, and if so, should I approach them from a different angle, or should I focus on the ones we haven't done yet? What are you doing on your phone by the way? That's not like you." She giggeled. "You're acting like my cousin's kid, glued to the screen like that."

[Caliland]

"Ah, good to see you here!" she said to him, and went to fill her cup. "I was wondering about the list you gave me. Are those the names of the candidates? Have any already been interviewed by us, and if so, should I approach them from a different angle, or should I focus on the ones we haven't done yet? What are you doing on your phone by the way? That's not like you." She giggeled. "You're acting like my cousin's kid, glued to the screen like that."

Lenny, wait no, Lane, it's Lane right? (Liam the intern)

"Oh, he's looking at candidates alright." said Liam, before bursting into laughter at his double entendre. Grant gave him an annoyed stare. Liam quit laughing. "He's trying out a dating app" said Liam. "We're trying to help his with his profile". So far all Grant has was this:

Timothy Grant, 57
New York City

|

"Yeah, I know" said Liam. "Whenever I'm at a loss, I just quote an old song, chicks like that romantic stuff." advised Liam

Tim Grant (who's 57 and lives in NYC)

"When I wash younger I had better luck with women, you know (Liam rolled his eyes in disbelief). I'll jusht put thish off for later. Sho, you need help finding intervieweesh?" said Grant, looking up from his phone at Julia.

Hang on, it's on the tip of my tongue, Leo! (Liam)

With Grant focusing on work, Liam discreetly snatched his phone, and typed something, before showing it to Tim and Julia.

Timothy Grant, 57
New York City

Likes pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain. Not into yoga, has half a brain. Not much into health food, into champagne.

[Barapam]

Julia raised an eyebrow and gave the men a curious grin. She found it cute that a man Grant's age was looking for love. The fact that he was the kind of macho man to feel a bit enmbarassed about the whole thing only made it even more adorable.

Tim Grant (who's 57 and lives in NYC)

Sho, you need help finding intervieweesh?" said Grant, looking up from his phone at Julia.

"Yes, exactly. I mean, since I usually don't cover local politics, or local news much at all, I really have no idea where to start..." The Swedish blonde shrugged, and took a sip of coffee. She could've googled the names of course, but she figured that it couldn't hurt to ask Grant face to face first.

Hang on, it's on the tip of my tongue, Leo! (Liam)

With Grant focusing on work, Liam discreetly snatched his phone, and typed something, before showing it to Tim and Julia.

Timothy Grant, 57
New York City

Likes pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain. Not into yoga, has half a brain. Not much into health food, into champagne.

Upon seeing Liam's prank Julia couldn't help but giggle. As a result she ended up burning her tongue and spilling some coffee on her blouse, but hey, at least it wasn't a full-on cartoonish spit-take. "Ow! Good one, Lee! Press 'save'!"

Still snickering, she put her mug down and reached for some paper towels.