And again I see a spot that reduces me to near-speechlessness.
Here's my question, though: When a "dog hander" shows up in front of the cameras claiming to have made several thousand finds, why don't people apply the same measure of journalistic skepticism?
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About Me
- Ken Chiacchia
- I escaped a biochemistry laboratory at Harvard University in 1990, to pursue literary pretension. Since that Crazy Ivan jolted me off the tracks, I’ve developed into a tetrapartite life form: *** A science journalist, with publications in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Pittsburgh City Paper (though they don’t seem to have archived any of my stuff), and others. I also work as a staff PR writer at a Big Company. My professional society is the National Association of Science Writers. *** A science fiction writer with upwards of a dozen paid publications, and membership in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. *** A dog guy who does search and rescue with Allegheny Mountain Rescue Group — or a SAR guy who works with dogs, maybe. I’ve written about dogs and dog olfaction for both popular and SAR publications, somewhat blending personae 1 and 3. *** A farmer? I’m still reconciling that one — I’m from Hackensack, for Pete’s sake. First came the farm collies, on whom I dote; now the chickens, who are surprisingly charming and cheerful; next, maybe, the meat sheep. In any case, it’s growing on me in a big way.
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