ConstantCommentary® Vol. II, No. 30, October 1, 1998

So Sue Me . . .

by Mike Jasper


There's no place like home

After I wrote last week's column, "Kansas sucks," I decided to stir the shit by e-mailing Kansas politicos, journalists, and radio and TV personnel to alert them to my column. I only heard from four people. I can't verify it, but I believe the most popular response to my e-mail was, "Hey! How do you download e-mail?"

To my surprise, I didn't get the kind of letters I was expecting. I thought I'd get one that said, "I don't blame you man. If Kansas State had lost to the University of Texas 48-7, I would have ragged on Texas myself."

The other letter I was expecting was, "Whaddaya mean Kansas sucks? 'Dust in the Wind' is a great fucking song."

Welcome to the Internet version of the prank phone call.

The first letter I got came from Jason R., a columnist for the Kansas State Collegian. Rather than reprint the entire letter, I've decided to comment on excerpts. That way I can quote things out of context and really make him look like a geek.

Jason wrote:

Two quick questions. Who the hell are you? Do I know you? Just curious.
 
MJ: Curious? Or bi-curious.

He also promoted his column:

My column for next Wednesday points to one of the major positives of Kansas.
 
MJ: That's right! I wrote an entire column about Kansas and never once mentioned cow tipping. Where's my head?

I checked out Jason's column (see link below). Jason says it's "not necessarily bad" that KSU is an agricultural school, because farmers are good people. Farmers feed the world. And yet others make fun of farmers, Jason says, and hold them in contempt. Why?

I don't know. Cause we always bite the hand that feeds us?

Jason, by the way, is an animal science major. Don't laugh. It's not an easy major. You have to employ a mind-boggling amount of geometry to execute the perfect cow tip.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Cow tips.

Jason defends Kansas:

Life here isn't as bad as you think.
 
MJ: Nothing is as bad as I think.

I sent Jason a reply to his first e-mail and told him I didn't believe he had actually read the column.

Jason e-mailed me back:

Actually, I did read your column. Well, most of it anyway. I got through about 70% of it before it got monotonous, and I figured I had gotten the gist of it.
 
MJ: Right. God forbid you read the whole thing only to find it has a twist at the end. Read 70 percent of this and see if you get the gist:
 
Our father
Who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
On Earth as it is in heaven
Give us this day, our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
But provide us with coupons
For we could really use coupons
For thine is the kingdom and the power,
Forever and ever
Amen.

Jason, let me help you out. In "Citizen Kane," Rosebud turns out to be the sled. In "The Crying Game," the black chick has a dick. Hope you got your 30 percent's worth.

Jason continues:

Having grown up in Kansas, I've grown tired of hearing about how much Kansas sucks.
 
MJ: So it's not just me then. Good.

Jason wanted to know how I pegged him as a journalist:

Just curious, where did my name turn up on the net as a journalist? I write opinions for the KSU Collegian, but didn't figure I could be found elsewhere.
 
MJ: A common mistake. People from Kansas are seldom found elsewhere.
 
Jason, baby, sweetheart. I got your name from the KSU Collegian Web site. It said that you were a columnist, so naturally I assumed you were a journalist. You can understand my confusion.

Look people. I don't mind an intelligently critical letter. I really don't. But Jason's letter screamed, "HOW COME YOU KNOW I EXIST! HOW COME YOU KNOW I EXIST! STOP LOOKING AT ME! DON'T LOOK AT ME!!!"

Yeah, Jason, I know you exist. I know everything about you. You're the guy whose mere presence at Collegian editorial meetings elicits rolled eyes and stifled groans. Why? Because you have but one agenda: How can I get my piddly-ass column in the paper this week?

Here's Jason at an editorial meeting:

Editor: This week we're running a special supplement?
 
Jason: Excuse me, but when you say "special supplement" do you mean a section of the paper that you don't run every time?
 
Editor: Ahhhhh.... yes.
 
Jason: Oh. (pause) Are you going to run my column this week?

Jason's middle name is Lyle, by the way. I usually don't mention middle names, but I found it relevant to the emotional disturbance I'm sensing.

I don't think Jason's a bad sort, just socially challenged. I'm sure he's learned his lesson, though. The next time someone accuses him of not reading an article, you can bet his answer will be: "Actually, I did read it. I read every fucking word."

The following is taken from an e-mail sent to me from Matt F., another lucky winner from Kansas:

Mike, how did you get my name and why did you deem fit to notify me of your Kansas commentary?
 
MJ: I got it from the PDML. You know. The Porn Downloaders Master List.
 
I gave your second question a lot of thought, Matt, and I don't deem fit anything.

Matt goes on to accuse me of plagiarism:

I can't say that you wrote anything that I haven't heard before...
 
Really. So Highway 83 is always closed then.

Matt draws comfort from his ilk:

... there are some people who actually like the state.
 
MJ: There are some people who actually like fried pork rinds.

Matt says other states suck too:

I'm sure you're aware that most of your commentary would also apply to rural areas of Texas (those open places outside of Dallas, Houston, etc.) and the Central Valley of California (where they have some of the largest dairies in the world).
 
MJ: Hey, man. Quit following me.

Matt gives in to despair:

Of course, you probably don't care.
 
MJ: You're wrong. I care very deeply. I just don't deem fit. Ever.

Matt drops names:

Have you ever met Spencer Duncan?
 
MJ: Look. I can't keep track of everyone who's offered to suck my dick at a Greyhound bus station.

So much for Matt.

Now we get to the letters from the intelligent and highly talented people. That's right, the people who actually thought my column was funny.

This one comes from Mary V., also a KSU Collegian columnist:

Whoa! That's a lot of angst for Kansas. Pretty funny, but you came off seeming pretty damn superior.
 
MJ: It couldn't be helped. I was writing about Kansas. Don't blame me, blame evolution.

What really sold me on Mary was the post script to her letter:

PS: Naked Lunch: Read it, watched it, partake in it often.

I'm not exactly sure what she means, but every interpretation I can think of makes Mary look real damn good. I'm going with the non-litigious, "She must read Burroughs a lot."

The best letter I received was from Kansas State Representative Jim Morrison, the one guy I didn't expect to hear from ever. Why? Because -- me being me -- I added the gratuitous post script, "Loved your work with the Doors. I knew you were alive, man!"

Like he hasn't heard that shit all his life.

But Jim Morrison -- Dr. James Morrison, as it turns out -- took the high road. He put me in my place by being gracious and dignified. When I finished his letter, I felt like the rhesus monkey who had just received a food pellet from the guy in the white lab coat.

Here's Jim's letter in its entirety:

Hi Mike.
 
You wrote an "interesting" bit on Kansas. I actually enjoyed the reading and it at least draws attention to us. We don't get much attention here in the flatlands, so we're like a starving potato chip lover -- even a wet potato chip will do!
 
I think US 83 will open in about one and a half months. Feel free to try again!
 
Take care,
 
Jim Morrison

Okay. So I'm an asshole. So what?

I say Jim Morrison for President. I've always wanted to say that anyway.

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 1998 by Mike Jasper.