Karl Klockars

It’s been almost 2 months that Amy Jacobsen has been out of a gig. For those of you playing along at home, she’s the one who decided it was a good idea to try to “report” a story in a two-piece swimsuit. Now, if she did this on a regular basis it probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Unfortunately, she decided that it was a good time to start this practice while at the home of someone whose wife was missing.

Hi, I’m Amy. I’ve looked better.

Ah, but if she were to start the bikini-reporter trend…I can see it now – “Live from this horrible crash at the side of the Stevenson…man, it’s cold out here. Am I showing too much goosebump? This better do something for ratings.” I’d watch. As long as I can make sure we get Anna Devlantes out there, as opposed to Warner Saunders.

Oh, what the hell. Send Warner out there too. Equal-opportunity underthings wearing.

In any event, poor Amy sits at home daily, staring those kids in the eye that she brought out to that pool party. I actually kind of believe her shpiel about how she was on the way to the pool, had the kids, had to rush out to Plainfield to hang out with news-story-people, stayed for the barbecue…okay, I’m not completely on board. In any event, there she is now. At home. With the young’uns.

“Mommy…why are you home so much nowadays?”

“Shut up, kid. This is all your fault.”

“But you were the one walking around a suspect in your underpants.”

“I said shut up.”

I wonder if she’s had the opportunity to watch a movie that might have aided her in her fight for her employment…

This should be right up Amy’s alley…which sounds rather offensive when I think about it. Besides being the funniest thing that Chevy Chase has ever done, it’s got a lot of things that might have helped Amy defend herself. Let’s look at the similarities.

Fletch: Chase plays a witty, clever smartassed investigative reporter that talks his way into seemingly random situations and manages to get the big scoop, the huge story, the winning piece for his newspaper.

Amy: Is a seemingly clever investigative reporter that talked her way into a seemingly innocuous situation in the attempt to get the inside story and the big scoop on the dissappearing-wife story, which could have ended up as a huge “get” for her station.

Fletch: Puts himself in harms way – possibly risking arrest or death at the hands of corrupt cops and conniving drug dealers – in order to personally investigate the claims of others and his own theories into international cocaine dealers.

Amy: Puts herself into the home of a potentially dangerous man, one who might be a suspect in the disappearance of his own wife, in order to personally hang out with her kids at a swimming pool, and the potential claims of innocence of a man in the eye of a media storm. Also risked a wicked sunburn.

Fletch: More than willing to wear strange and confusing things like a maid’s outfit, goofy teeth and a mechanic’s coveralls, and a full wig, beard, and robes of a street preacher to pursue leads on his story.

Amy: More than willing to go out and throw on a bikini (admittedly, not the same as preacher robes – kinda the polar opposite) while covering a part of a story and had the misfortune of getting filmed doing it.

Were I Ms. Jacobsen, I would employ the Fletch defense. It would be as follows: “Fletch did it.” Okay, okay…so Fletch is completely fictional. Big deal. Fletch got away with it, didn’t he? It’s only fair that if he gets a free pass, Amy gets one too. I’d also like to see Amy in a Lakers uniform.

He even posed as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Kinda.

All the ridiculous arguments about this whole kerfuffle* being completely sexist are ridiculous. It was a reporter being a bit too convivial with someone who was a “person of interest” and happened to be wearing something that approximated underpants. It didn’t help her too much that her “off-air” appearance didn’t look anything like her “on-air” appearance. It was a neat insight into how much work goes into making news people newsier.

If a guy was filmed standing around in his Hawaiian-print swim shorts, gut exposed and thick cigar in his hand, shooting the shit with some mobster or some accused husband-murderer, people are going to raise their eyebrows as well. No difference there – just because Amy has breasts isn’t the make-or-break in this case.

“Yeah, hi. I can’t find my career. Have you seen it?”

But hindsight being what it is, Amy, you probably shouldn’t have gotten the boot. Or the sandal, as the case may be. It’s probably time for you to come back. Maybe you change your name to Fletch or something. Fletch Jacobsen? It could work. On Fox, of course. You could set your hair on fire and wear pasties and you’d be okay. Just don’t look better than Mark Suppelsa – he’ll break your legs.

*I’ve seen the word “kerfuffle” used by at least a dozen different writers in the past three months. It’s like it came up in a fortune cookie and everyone decided to use it. I just wanted to be part of the fun. Kerfuffle. See? What a hoot.