Dear Sir:

I have a problem with your behavior today.

You, I and some of our other local comrades in journalism have just spent over four hours watching five former United States secretaries of state doodle on napkins, pick at their ears and occasionally talk about stuff.

Everything is running more than an hour over, we’re all tired, cranky, starving and have to pee, and it’s obvious the secretaries are feeling the same way.

When they’re leaving the press conference to get a delicious catered lunch and the we the press photogs are getting our exiting shots, I really don’t care if you’re a credentialed writer and a huge fan…

…don’t butt in front of us and interrupt Colin Powell in mid-conversation for “one more picture, please.”

And good lord, should he be kind enough to stop for one more picture, DON’T TAKE A FREAKIN’ MYSPACE PHOTO.

Sir, I am aghast. This is something I would expect from my dingbat of a cousin who just hit puberty, not a professional journalist. Shame on you.

You will notice I have blocked out your eyes and your name and media affiliation on your press credentials. You’re welcome.

Professionalism is very important in this business. Please get some.

Signed,
Lindy.