Tuesday, July 6, 2010

BURN: On That Poor Harassed Photog At The BP Refinery

A whole lot of people...all of whom should have known all wee-weed up over a recent incident at a Texas City refinery.  This is silly.

On both Right and Left ends of the blogosphere, people have been hyperventilating over the fact a photographer was stopped by BP security, local police, and DHS personnel.  The apparent excuse for this nonsense is the juxtaposition of the terms "BP" and "press".

But, c'mon, people!  This is a BP refinery.  It has NOTHING to do with the Deepwater Horizon.  I mean NOTHING.

And the people who corralled the photographer were doing their jobs.  We like that.  Since 9/11, we have been a little sensitive about folks paying unwonted attention to refineries.  They are known to make remarkably attractive targets for terrorists, and they are kind of...I dunno...volatile.

The Obamic lid on the coverage of the Gulf non-response is a BIG issue.  But, please, let us be real.


  1. Dead on again Rags. This is basic security protocol these days.

    A few years back, some friends and I were liesurely sailing on a pleasant westerly breeze into Tampa Bay when we were approached by a USCG patrol boat with a 50MM cannon on the bow. We were ordered to power up and immediately motor 1/2 mile from the shipping channel. When I asked why, the officer just said, "Get your boat moving captain - NOW". After about ten minutes we saw what was happening. A large Propane tanker was heading into the Port of Tampa to unload with four USCG cruisers in escort. A strict perimeter is maintained around these ships at all times as they would obviously make a very nice bomb in a metro area. My initial annoyance was quickly replaced by an appreciation and respect for what these guys are doing out there.

    The Photog in TC was out of line. Period.

    Get. Over. It.

  2. Glad to see you back, Swede!

    I think keeping "journalistic integrity" is really important for bloggers, and that means not stretching stories to fit a meme.

    This was one.