Chapter 46 dream enlightenment

Once in college, while we were waiting to take a journalism class, a fat man barged into the classroom.This man was wearing big flowered shorts, and he was pulling slippers. He looked like a broken-down middle-aged man, wobbly, and wanted to drive us away. It was learned that this lunatic was the teacher of the news writing class himself.This happened in the very old days, when it was nice to belittle one's career, common sense was applauded, and the news in the newspapers was as dry as a robot's biscuit.Fortunately, such interesting teachers are rare, otherwise I might really be reduced to a complete bum.

As this teacher predicted, college journalism classes will do us no good.After spending 4 years, I finally remembered the names of two people: Pulitzer and Hearst.As I walked out of school, I figured this was the only reason I could stop people calling me a pig. Aside from the somewhat silly nature of journalism education at the time, I also found it off-putting to me that journalism was indeed, for the most part, a stodgy business.For the above two American news moguls, I have not been very fond of them for a long time.It was Hearst's daughter who intrigued me the most. She was kidnapped by the kidnappers, and at first she was miserable, but one day she suddenly turned into a thug and went with them to rob the bank.If you knew what power in this world can turn an apple into a donkey, you would be able to explain this anecdote.

I believe that was the taste of journalists of my generation when we were young, that we needed some kind of wild glamour, not conference coverage.Our journalistic initiation was dreamlike, if not Farage — not only not dull, but not even flat.Not to mention the "The Adventures of Tintin" we read in childhood. As a reporter who can find exclusive news in the urinal, Tintin is not much worse than 007, even his schnauzer More powerful than Southern Weekend. In contrast, the real life of a reporter is really unsatisfactory.Sometimes you do see joy, but other times you see life as a swamp and God as bad.The world is not benevolent, and everything is treated as a straw dog. We have seen this kind of thing a lot.With hope, we hope that people have a heart of innocence, so that where the evening wind blows, others can also be happy.But our disappointments are always as much as our hopes, which can be somewhat bewildering.

Compared with the fantastic journalism education mentioned above, the stories told by the famous director Ingmar Bergman are much simpler.He said that his dream is an ancient legend. The cathedral collapsed, and craftsmen, engineers, millers, knights, peddlers, all three religions gathered together, and spent a long time rebuilding a more glorious church. Just go away, no one knows their names.Bergman said that his dream is to become one of them and build a cathedral of human civilization. I think it's an interesting story for ambitious journalists.In fact, this is true. A steamed bun does not make a fat man, and the construction of a civilized building requires journalists who endure hard labor. It is not just one or a few, nor is it only in one place.

Even on such a solemn subject, let me say that for journalists, the most serious thing in life is not how to publish news, but to laugh.News is a thing that can be written by individuals, but how to verify whether these bipeds holding press cards in our country are human?This question always makes me laugh.