Michael D. Davis.

I’m not a reporter. I’m not a journalist. I am an artist.

I have been the cartoonist for the paper here for well over a year, but I’ve been playing “reporter” for only a few months.

Now I can’t tell you how I go about making my cartoons because that process is weird and uniquely my own. However, if you want to “report” like I “report,” if you want to be a Mike Davis brand “reporter,” here are a few things I do that no one else seems to because it’s just how I do things.

Never be prepared

I walk into situations where if I have any information at all, it is the bare minimum. I don’t know what the meeting is for or who is hosting it. When it comes to items of necessity i.e. camera, notebook, pen, or recorder, I never have them in true times of need. Instead, my pockets filled with things like rubber chickens, bottles of paint, a lone pink glove, and paperback books — which, I can tell you from experience, that a rubber chicken and a Stephen King novel provide zero help in recording an interview.

Never get all the information

I seem to leave questions unanswered and potholes in the knowledge highway. What are emails for anyway if not to send questions that I should have asked in person? This is especially applicable to photo ops. Whether I’m taking a picture of two people or a dozen, I never seem to get everyone’s name. But ya know it’s a small town, everyone looking at the picture probably knows the person’s name anyway (or so I tell myself).

Forget everything

I stammer, stutter, and repeat the word um as I search my cavernous mind for the questions that I knew I should have written down before leaving the house. Things pass through my mind like the breeze through a wind sock. Usually, it is one or two questions that I fixate upon and am able to remember, while the rest of the interview is made up of questions my mind scrambles to put together in the moment. One particular interview question ended up being, “So, who’s idea, with the food and the you know?”

Always be seven minutes late

A chronic problem going back years. I don’t believe I ever made it to high school on time, and if I make it to the County Supervisors before the pledge, the devil gets a chill. I never leave the house until the absolute last minute while telling myself I’m gonna make it in the nick of time. Let’s be honest here, though, if I make it at all it’s a miracle.

Wear something offensive

I wear basically the same outfit everywhere and have for years. Whether it is a large middle finger on my back or a pin on my lapel that says the F-word, I always wear something that seems to offend someone. I wear colorful ties that are adorned with cartoon characters, but the rest of me is draped in black like Dracula’s fat cousin. It’s called style, and I look cool as the word on my lapel. I’ve gone to the store in this outfit and I’ve met Senator Grassley in this outfit. It ain’t changing.

These are five little rules on how I do things as a “reporter.” But these rules are applicable to how I do everything in my life. If tomorrow I’m playing librarian or private detective, I can assure you I’ll be following these rules.