ConstantCommentary® Vol. II, No. 31, October 8, 1998

So Sue Me . . .

by Mike Jasper


Let's change Zimbabwe back to Rhodesia

John B. cornered me at the bottom of the stairwell. John was the general manager of the newspaper I worked for, the Sebastopol Times & News. I was a reporter, a columnist and on double-secret probation.

"You wrote about Africa," he said.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

"We don't cover Africa," he said.

"Gee, John, I thought we covered Sebastopol, Graton and the English-speaking parts of Africa."

He wasn't in the mood. "No, we don't. Why did you write about Africa?"

I can't remember exactly how I answered the question (I clearly recall it had nothing to do with the truth). But I'll gladly answer the question now.

Budweiser. I wrote a column about Africa because I drank a case of Budweiser. King of Beers.

TIMES & NEWS LOSES TO ANYONE BY TEN RUNS!!!

The Sebastopol Times & News softball team had just finished playing a game against our rivals, the designated winners. It really didn't matter who we played, the other team always won. They had no choice. We always lost.

After the game, Chris R. and I bought a case of Budweiser (King of Beers), went back to the newsroom and played video games on the computers while downing beer after beer after beer. This is what losers do.

Around my fifth beer, it occurred to me that I had no column and tomorrow morning was the deadline. Bummer.

"Chris, I don't have a column. Any ideas?"

"We could make prank phone calls and then record them."

"Yeah, Chris, that'd be a great idea if it didn't suck," I said. I then informed him that the entire newspaper business sucked. Why? Cause all the really good stories of my youth were gone. Two Kennedys were assassinated and I had missed it. NASA put a man on the moon and I had missed it. Nixon resigned and I had missed it.

Born too late.

"Even the fucking geography has changed," I told Chris. "When's the last time you saw a story about Rhodesia? Shit was always going down in Rhodesia, but you never hear about it anymore. I want to cover the stories I read about when I was a kid."

7 MISSIONARIES SLAIN IN CONGO!!!

(Wait a minute. Is the Congo in Rhodesia? Hmmm.)

"There isn't any such thing as Rhodesia anymore," Chris said. "They changed the name to Zimbabwe."

"What?" I yelled. Not a hostile yell, more of a sloppy drunken yell. All the same, it scared the shit out of Chris. "They changed the fucking name? How in the fuck can I cover a story in Rhodesia now? That's not right, man, that's just not fucking right."

Rhodesia changed its name to Zimbabwe and I had missed it.

"I'm calling them up. I'm calling those motherfuckers up and demanding they change the name back," I said.

There's my column, I thought.

And now I present the column to you: reprinted exactly as it appeared in the Sebastopol Times & News. Except for some editing. Cause I've had ten years to think about it.

My column was called "The Watchdog," by the way.

"More like a lapdog if you ask me," Larry Mac -- another writer for the paper -- told me after I published a kiss-ass column about a local politician. You have to understand. I suffered from creative restraints at the Times & News. I wasn't allowed to use the F-word at the newspaper. I didn't have the same freedom of speech I now enjoy on the Internet. Besides... the politician bought me lunch.

Old World Values

I called Zimbabwe. I called Zimbabwe and demanded that the country change its name back to Rhodesia.
 
They wouldn't do it. They wouldn't do it that night anyway. You think you have the power of the press behind you and then something like this happens. What gives?
 
I tried everything. I even enlisted the help of Chris R., another pro-Rhodesian reporter at the Times & News. We pooled our time, energy and resources to fight for this worthy cause. True revolution exacts a heavy toll (in this case about $50 for the phone bill), but it all went for nothing, nada, zero, zilch, zip.
 
Too bad. It was a good idea and for the following reasons:
 
Reason # 1: The country wouldn't have to march last in the Olympics anymore.
 
Reason #2: It would have caused mass confusion at the American embassy.
 
Reason #3: The Zimbabwean Ridgeback is a stupid, stupid breed.
 
Reason #4: It would have justified the phone bill.
 
Reason #5: It's numerologically correct.
 
Reason #6: We all could have won big money on wagers.
 
Reason #7: Chris and I could have been on the David Letterman show.
 
Reason #8: Sixties nostalgia.
 
Reason #9: More people can pronounce Rhodesia than Zimbabwe.
 
Reason #10: Just think of the publicity.
 
It didn't work out. At least we tried.
 
Last Wednesday, late at night, we called the American embassy in Salisbury only to find -- to our utter horror and chagrin -- that the city's name had changed to Harare. Whoever answered the embassy phone (a five-dollar-an-hour night clerk I'm guessing) told us our chances of effecting the name change were not very good.
 
"Highly unlikely to none," he said. "Besides, that's something that we haven't anything to do with."
 
So much for American might.
 
We asked for his name, but he refused to give it to us. We asked him why.
 
"It has a lot to do with reporters and what not," he said.
 
"If another newspaper editor reads it in your paper and then other newspaper editors read it, the next thing you know we'll be swamped with calls."
 
True. We could have started a media feeding frenzy. But then that was the whole point.
 
Our man at the embassy switched us to the public relations department where we talked to a Mr. Kouttab. Static on the phone line prevented us from hearing his first name. Damn Third World equipment.
 
Kouttab confirmed that the chances of getting Zimbabwe to change its name back to Rhodesia were zero. He explained that Rhodesia had once been a British colony but now was under native African rule and a Communist country to boot. Hell, I knew that. This wasn't a question of politics. This was a question of semantics.
 
"But Rhodesia just sounds sooooo much better," I whined to the unmoved Kouttab.
 
When I brought up Zimbabwe's last place position in the Olympics, Kouttab gave me a serious answer. He said the country was considering a petition to change the marching order every other Olympics to an alphabetically descending scheme.
 
It soon occurred to me that no matter what stupid question I put to Mr. Kouttab, I would get a serious answer in return.
 
I choked. The fear of starting an international incident sent a wave of panic through me, for I remembered that my driver's license had expired. I hurriedly said goodbye and hung up.
 
Chris -- who had laughed himself into convulsions during the phone call -- checked in with Pac Bell to find out how much dough we were in for. They said the call would be about $50.
 
It was worth it. I've spent more on drugs for far less laughs.
 
The Zimbabwe experience taught me a lot. I learned that even a reporter from a small-town newspaper will be taken seriously if you call the embassy in Rhodesia... I mean Zimbabwe.
 
The second thing I learned is that starting an international incident is pretty easy if you talk to the right people.
 
Finally, I learned a lot about diplomacy. In the interest of national security, I've decided to cancel the phone calls I had planned to make to Persia and Siam.
(Reprinted with permission of Sonoma West Times & News)

Ain't it cute? Little Mikey Jasper's wise-ass column with his little trademark wise-ass twist at the end. After all, I was only, what, 15 at the time. Emotionally.

I know, I know, I know. What's the deal with the David Letterman Top Ten List? Look. It was 1988 and Letterman references were still considered hip then. Besides, people who read the Times & News wouldn't stay up late enough to watch Letterman. Why not educate them?

The point of all of this is simple: I got away with it. I never heard a word about the phone bill (I think the office manager -- a great old gal named Donna -- hid it from John) and I kept my job and the column. With the exception of Steve Cook, I didn't meet one person in town who liked the column or even understood it, but so what? I hit my deadline. And I did it drunk. Give me some degree-of-difficulty points, will you?

I know, I know, I know. Some of you are wondering: Why dredge this up now? It's history man. Why write a column about a column you wrote ten years ago?

You know why. Budweiser, baby. King of Beers.

* * *

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.