Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)
The Deseret News Needs a Marijuana Critic
And I'm just the guy for the job.By Bob Wire, 10-27-09
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| Oh crap, I just smoked my résumé. | |
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The U.S. Attorney General’s recent recommendation for federal prosecutors to lighten up on medical marijuana users and distributors has launched a cottage industry of media reviewers for marijuana dispensaries. Denver’s hipster weekly, Westword, has received over 120 applications for the position, a couple of them actually written in tiny script on a Zig Zag paper.
I could smell an opportunity for a journalist of my, uh, diverse background so I flew to Salt Lake City and got an audience with the city editor of the Deseret News, to persuade him that their paper needed a weed writer. The following interview was recorded with an iPod I had hidden in my Utah Jazz hoodie. Or maybe it was all a fever dream.
~~~ X ~~~~ X ~~~~ X ~~~
The city editor shook my hand and we sat down across from one another at his desk. “Mr. Wire, I want to thank you for your interest in a position here at the Deseret News,” he said. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but here at the News we haven’t even discussed running reviews for marijuana dispensaries. In fact, I don’t believe there is one in the greater Salt Lake area.”
“Ready to wake and bake, I am!” I said, giving him a nod and a beatific smile.
“Is there something wrong with your throat? Can I get you some water?”
I coughed into my fist. “Uh, no, man, that was my Yoda impression. Yoda? Star Wars? Ah, forget it. Anyway, hey, do you guys have any orange soda? I could totally go for some orange soda right now. Ha hah. Yoda. Soda. Yoda soda! Soda Yoda!”
“I’ll see if we can scare some up. Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me a little about your writing experience. I see on your résumé that you haven’t had anything published since, well, your high school newspaper.”
I straightened up in my chair. “Yeah, man, that was a popular report for the PHS Wildcat. A hard-hitting investigative series on locker room hazing. I went undercover as a freshman on the basketball team, and my shortness of height made me not very tall, and that invited a lot of abuse. I still have burn marks on my scrotum from the Ben-Gay they put in my jock. You want to see?” I reached for my belt buckle.
“No, no…really, that’s all right. I’ll take your word for it,” said the editor. “I’m just wondering, well, first of all, why do you think the Deseret News would have any used for a medical marijuana critic?”
I wiped at my nose with the back of my hand. “Well, ah, I know that Portland is a big city, one of the biggest on the West Coast, and any densely populated urban area like this is going to have some doctors prescribing dope for their patients, man. Plus, I already interviewed with Westword in Denver, but they threw me out with the stems and seeds!” I started giggling uncontrollably, my eyes watering.
“Well,” said the editor, leaning forward, elbows on his desk, clasping his hands together. “You realize you’re not in Portland, right?”
“What’d I say, Portland? No, man, I said Salt Lake. Whatever. It’s a big city. And with the beach right here, I think there’s gonna be a lot of medical weed making the rounds, because, you know, surfers are gonna get their hands on it even if the only sickness they have is their sick moves in the tube. I used to surf. Did you ever surf? Man, surfing rocks. I gotta find my board. I didn’t use a wet suit, though, because we were pretty far down south…Hey, man, can they send in some donuts?”
“Mr. Wire, I’m not sure this is going to work out. I mean, obviously you are no stranger to the effects of marijuana. Even a ‘square’ like me can see that.”
“You have X-Box?”
The editor slid my résumé into a file folder and pushed his chair back from the desk. “No, we don’t have X-Box, Mr. Wire. Nor do we have any room for a reporter who is under the influence of marijuana.”
“Marijuana. Dope. Ganj. Grass. Da kine. Boo. Bud. Tea. Kush. Chronic. Weed. Herb. Hippie lettuce. Reefer. Hooba…”
“Well, that’s very impressive, Mr. Wire,” said the editor. He stood up from his chair and held out his hand for me to shake. “I don’t foresee a need for your particular skill set here at the Deseret News, but we’ll keep your résumé on file and I’ll certainly call you if we decide to start running reviews on medical marijuana. I believe you can show yourself out.”
“Doobage. Cheeba. Sweet leaf. Green. Skunk. Dank. Creeper. Mary Jane…”
[Bookmark NewWest.net/BobWire and check back every day for more hard-boiled hoo hah.]
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Comments
You satire on yourself is exeptional!
bearbait...."go away"