ConstantCommentary® Vol. V, No. 129, April 27, 2001

So Sue Me . . .

by Mike Jasper


I read the news today

(... oh, fuck)

Back in college, I took communications classes from Carl Jensen, a professor at Sonoma State University in Rohnert Park, California. Jensen created an award-winning graduate seminar called Project Censored, where censorship is redefined to include not only articles that never made it into print, but stories buried on page eight of the Oak Hill Gazette.

You know. Kind of like when Werner Erhard of EST tried to conquer world hunger by redefining it. I think he called it "alternative nourishment" or something.

"Now that we're rid of world hunger, it's time we do something about alternative nourishment."

"Amen, brother."

"Good. Send money."

Jensen also created another media criticism seminar -- this one a little more digestible -- called "Junk Food News." For example, the so-called news stories about Robert Downey, Jr.'s drug busts would qualify as junk food news. Another example would be the buzz surrounding NBC's new game show, "The Weakest Link" (although there is some real news to this story, since the show's host, Anne Robinson, is the only woman on the planet who's ever made Regis Philbin look good. After Kathie Lee Gifford).

But getting back to Jensen, one day during one of his communications classes, he said something that made my head snap back.

"So what's the purpose of the news?" he asked rhetorically. "It's to give us information so we can act on it, right?"

Really? I had no idea. I thought the news was nothing more than show biz, something to entertain us after a hard day's work. I thought all news was junk food news.

Maybe it's the way I was raised. We'd watch the Viet Nam War on TV, and mom would make us chili dogs. A Kennedy would get assassinated, and mom would make us root-beer floats and we'd stay up late. Dad would get arrested on the 6 o'clock news, and mom would cook us steak (I never understood that one).

You have to understand. I was very young when I was in college, 30 I think. But I can still recall my reaction to the news then.

"A tornado swept across Oklahoma today."

Cool. Glad I wasn't there.

"Four dead in Ohio."

Cool. Glad I wasn't there.

"A gunman shot the entire family at 1579 Shay Avenue."

Cool. Glad I live at 1577 Shay Avenue.

I think the only news that affected me daily was sports (damn gambling problem) and the weather.

"As you can see from the map, we're going through some heavy precipitation right now. This rain storm is expected to continue throughout the night."

Thanks, man. Thanks for saving me the hassle of walking to the window and looking outside.

Now and then, a news story will affect me. For example, one time my house in Austin was burglarized, and when the cops arrived, they were soon followed by the KVUE news crew. My girlfriend at the time gave KVUE the victim's report they were looking for.

"We're so vulnerable here," she said. "There doesn't seem to be anything we can do." Or words to that effect. Now that's news, and no doubt every burglar within a ten-block area took notice. Wisely, I countered her quote with one of my own.

"We're going to get a real big dog tomorrow, a pit bull or a Rotwieler."

The next day, when I saw myself on the TV spewing the quote, I felt safe and self-satisfied, especially since KVUE immediately cut to a German shepherd gone berserk.

"GRRRRRRAALPH. GRRRRRAALPH. GRRRRRRRRRRRR." My work was done.

A few weeks ago, the news affected me again when I got an e-mail from a Web hosting service called ExpertHosting that warned, "We are emailing to alert you to an MSNBC article: 'Hacker claims theft of 46,000 ADDR.com client records'."

Here's a brief overview of the MSNBC article:

A computer criminal in Europe claims to have stolen personal information on 46,000 customers from Web hosting company ADDR.com. The data includes account names and passwords that could be used to alter Web site content, as well as credit card information.

Great. The company hosting my Web site happened to be ADDR.com. Now I really had some news to act on. First, I wrote ADDR.com to see whether the story had been confirmed or if I had been sent to some fake MSNBC site. Sadly, the story was true, so I had to call up my credit card company and get my number changed before Horst from the Netherlands started ordering body parts from eBay with my credit card.

Hackers happen, so I didn't blame ADDR.com. After all, I had been with the company for three years without major incident. Just a pile of small, irritating incidents. But a few days later, I received an urgent e-mail from ADDR.com.

"Due to the unfortunate events that have occurred during the past week, we are unable to continue operations at Addr.com."

Great. Now I'm screwed, I thought. After e-mailing other Internet columnists for advice, I scrambled to find a new Web hosting service and dumped my old ADDR.com site. Unfortunately, I did this a little earlier than I should have, and my site was offline for about a day.

Two days later, I got yet another email from ADDR.com.

"Thank you for contacting Addr.com Support. This matter of us closing is fraudulent. We suspect that this email is tied to the previous email from ExpertHosting.com."

Great. Now I'm unscrewed.

That's it for me. I say fuck ADDR.com, fuck ExpertHosting, fuck MSNBC and most of all -- fuck the news. From now on, if I want to know what's happening in the world, I'll get off my ass, walk to the window and take a look outside.

That reminds me, did anybody catch the score from last night's game?

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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.


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Mike Jasper is a writer and musician living in Austin, Texas. Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, he has strong ties to Seattle, St. Petersburg, Florida and North Platte, Nebraska. He can be reached at column@mikejasper.com or PO Box 91174, Austin TX, 78709 or 24-hour voice mail at 512-916-3727. Accessible? I think so.
© 2001 by Mike Jasper, All Rights Reserved. ConstantCommentary® is published every Thursday except for holidays, planned and unplanned. All material is the responsibility of the author. Special thanks to those who helped along the way: Jeff Cox, Susan Maxey, Catherine Clay, Cathleen Cole, Valerie Sprague, Ian Wolff, Laura Martin and Karin Stephenson. (You may download this article, print it out for personal use and e-mail it to your friends. But you must never, ever give Kurt Vonnegut the credit.)