The Yang Slinger: Vol. XXXVIV
Nearly three decades ago, I spearheaded a truly offensive and tasteless April Fool's issue of the University of Delaware student newspaper. I regret nothing.
The framed front page hangs in my garage.
The wife has asked me to take it down, and with good reason. She knows the backstory, and finds it quite offensive. Which, of course, it is.
But, on principle, I refuse to move it. First, because I’m annoyingly stubborn. But second, because despite the ugliness and the nastiness and the raw-youth immaturity, the newspaper means something to me. Or, really, it represents something to me. In its own way, it screams BE ORIGINAL! BE DARING! BE OUTSIDE THE BOX! BE BOLD! BE CREATIVE! BE UNPREDICTABLE! And as I age (I turn 51 in a few weeks), those reminders prove increasingly important. It’s easy to settle and kick back and glide. It’s hard to spit into the wind.
That issue—well, it spit into the motherfucking wind.
Hence, when I pull into my garage, the first thing I see is this …
Now, if one looks closely, they might notice it’s not a newspaper, per se, but the old-school, laid-out front page of a newspaper. That’s how, back at the University of Delaware in the early-to-mid 1990s, the staff of the bi-weekly Review pieced together its issues. We’d design the paper on a desktop computer (big ups, Quark XPress), print things out, then glue it all onto rectangular poster boards. Someone from the printing press would come, gather the pages, drive off, then return in two days with 10,000 copies of the newest issue of The Review.
I digress.
The issue I am referring to—the one framed in my garage—is dated, simply, APRIL FOOLS 1994. I was the editor in chief of the Review at the time—an unjustifiably cocky, cocksure senior who specialized in needling fraternities and sororities, dumping on the Blue Hens football program and doing everything within my power to be noticed.
Or, put differently, I literally wore no shirt in my column mugshot …
I suppose those are the byproduct characteristics of a kid with a small penis, huge ego and no game. Fuck, the lord’s academic year of 1993-94 wasn’t only my final college swing, but also the first time I ever kissed a girl. I was 21, and utterly pathetic (need proof? Here you go, kids).
So, to make up for my inadequacies, I went … loud. REALLY LOUD. EXTREMELY LOUD! I wanted the newspaper to punch people in the mouths and make their nostrils bleed oil.
What I wanted, really, was an April Fool’s issue.
Many members of the staff were against it. They (wisely, reasonably) argued that a newspaper overflowing with gags and insults would damage our reputation for fair and honest journalism. But I didn’t care. I believed then (as I believe now) that student media is a rare opportunity to take risks and chances. So I told the 35 or so students on staff that they were welcome to contribute to the April Fool’s issue, or just take the week off.
Then, I did one of the dumbest things ever.
Back in the day, the Review had a bunch of cabinets stuffed with old photographs from past years. In anticipation of the special issue, I started flippig through the antiquated images—searching for … I dunno. Something funny. Something weird. Something different.
A fire truck.
Flip.
The 1982 Alpha Phi formal.
Flip.
Former Hens point guard Taurence Chisholm.
Flip.
A midget1 standing against a brick wall.
Fl—wait … wait! What!?
I looked again, and the photograph was a Whopper value meal (extra large fries) to my soul. The image showed a short-statured kid standing before the brick wall. His hands were small. His neck, too. Really, everything was small.
I knew nothing about the guy. There was no name, no date. Just the photo. So I grabbed it and—because I was an overflowing bag of asshole—shared it with some of the other April Fool’s participants. We all chuckled over the myriad possibilities, before deciding it’d be uproarious to place a football player’s head atop the body, rename him “Butch Romano,” make him the Blue Hens’ highly recruited nose guard and, eh … run this …
Is it funny? I mean, at the time it seemed hilariously so. Is it mean, in the cruelest of all measures? Yes. And what I didn’t count on—again, because I was an overflowing bag of asshole—is that the mother of the short-statured former student still lived nearby in Newark, Del. And that she regularly read the student newspaper. And that despite the football helmet, she (obviously) recognized her son.
And that she was devastated.
I was in the office when she called, asking for the editor. All these years later, I can still hear the hurt in her voice. The raw pain. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for my son,” she told me. “If he were to ever see this, it would kill him.” She threatened to have the Little People of America picket our offices if we didn’t apologize2—so I apologized. “You really hurt me,” she said. “Deeply. This has carved me up.”
I have never forgotten that.
Never, ever.
And yet—I still don’t regret the issue.
Why?
Because a college newspaper really doesn’t exist to be a newspaper, per se. I mean, it does in a technical sense. Stories are written, stories are read. But, really, it’s a laboratory for young, aspiring journalists to work things out. You need to take shots in order to grasp what works and what doesn’t work. You need to try things. You need to experiment. For this Substack I find myself digging through tons of college newspapers, and I’m routinely disappointed by the lack of oomph and pizzazz. Boring ledes about Penn State beating Pitt 4-2 in softball. Columns with no bite. Body-quote-body-quote-body-quote. Student press is your chance to do anything. So why do nothing? Why not go for broke?
Plus, the issue is legitimately funny.
All these decades later, it really is. Young cockiness has its drawbacks, but at ages 18, 19, 20, 21—you’re still seeing the world though a kaleidoscope. The Review offices were a haven of marijuana and booze; of cigarettes and old pizza and gross couches and Ween’s “Push th' Little Daisies” playing on repeat. As a college journalist you simultaneously hate and love everything. Your snark meter is blasting at 11. Writing doesn’t just feel like something to do. It feels like the thing to do. Like you have a pistol strapped to your hip, twitchy fingers dangling by your side.
The April Fool’s issue manifests that.
Greg Orlando, one of the best writers I’ve ever known3, wrote this gem of a piece, headlined ROSELLE LEAVES FOR HEE-HAW, about the (loathsome-in-our-eyes) university president resigning to appear on TV …
I added a story headlined SNOOP EXCITED TO ADDRESS BITCHES AT COMMENCEMENT—which came out shortly after Snoop was allegedly involved in a drive-by shooting.
There were comics that simultaneously made no sense and all sorts of sense (h/t to Brian Hickey) …
There were ads that were equal part grotesque and uproarious (this one features Greg) …
And there was an advice column—also penned by the magnificent Orlando, in the voice of a disguised Roselle—that still brings tears to my eyes …
When the issue came out—well, it was gobbled up. Back in the era of print, students at the University of Delaware actually read the Review. You’d walk through the Scrounge (the main dining hall) and see unfolded pages everywhere. And while some issues were ingested more than others, the April Fool’s issue was a phenomenon. I knew we’d made it when, a day or two after publication, a man named Timothy Brooks—Delaware’s dean of students—called to tell me that he was a wee-bit tired of reassuring students and parents that, no, Tom Clancy had not been gunned down and also that, no, the rapper Snoop Doggy Dogg would not be filling in as commencement speaker.
I still fucking love that.
A final thought.
In the aftermath of publication, a University of Delaware journalism professor told me that, one day, I’d look back with shame and embarrassment at the April Fool’s issue. “You’ll really regret this one,” he said.
The professor was probably, oh, 45.
I am, again, now nearly 51.
I’ve never regretted it.
Not once.
The Butch Romano thing—shitty and classless. But the issue itself remains one of the great joys of my writing life. Again, it symbolizes all the little things I’ve tried (and often failed) to embody as a writer. Taking risks. Finding color. Firing off some lightning.
So, sorry dear wife, I will continue to pull into the garage, stare at the ol’ front page and laugh my ass off.
The April Fool’s issue of 1994 ain’t coming down.
The Quaz Five with … Chris Yandle
Chris Yandle is the assistant commissioner for public affairs with the Louisiana Board of Regents, as well as a former former college athletics administrator and an award-winning public relations professional. Most notably, he is the author of, “Lucky Enough: A Year of a Dad's Daily Notes of Encouragement and Life Lessons to His Daughter.” You can follow him on Twitter here.
1. So, Chris, your website features daily notes written to your kids. You started in 2017, and you're still rolling. Why?: I have been writing daily notes to my daughter Addison since 2017 and my son Jackson since 2021. My notes to Addison began when she was starting fourth grade (middle school here in Louisiana), and it was her fourth school in five years. After moving around the South chasing my former career in college athletics, the moves were wearing on my kids. I began with a simple message on August 14, 2017. Every message has been words I either needed myself or to reassure her that I was here for her no matter what. I never thought our story of my overcoming job loss and hers of battling anxiety and bullying would make TV headlines a few years ago, but I keep going because I want my kids to have a life “playbook” to follow after I’m gone or that they can share with their own kids one day. My favorite dads Ryan Reynolds and The Rock have style, good looks, and movie careers, but I have notes I share with my kids, so that’s good by me.
2. I, like you, am a big notes-in-lunchbox guy. But I did feel like, after a while, the kids got a bit "meh" about 'em. Have you had that?: My daughter Addison is a high school freshman and will be 15 (and getting a learner’s permit) in a few short months. She has my dry, sarcastic wit, so she will give me shit sometimes about what I write. As she grows older, she may not *admit* she reads them, but I can tell she does. As for my son Jackson (who is almost 12 and in fifth grade), he keeps every note in the front zipper of his lunchbox. Originally, I wasn’t going to write notes to him because it was something for me and Addison, but she supported me to write notes to him and we’re going strong at more than 1400 total notes. But yes, I do get my daily dose of pre-teen and teenage eye-rolling!
3. You post all your notes. So do you ever find yourself writing notes and thinking about how they'll be received on the Internet? I mean, are you even REALLY just writing them for your kids?: Great question. I try to make them topical or timely when I write them on Sundays for that school week. While they are written to them, I am still writing them for me. Six years later, I’m finding myself needing them just as much if not more than Addison and Jackson. I have certainly received a lot more positive feedback about what I write (and why I write them), but like anyone who has a pulse and an Internet connection, I too get negative or mean shit from faceless or nameless people online. Nothing in life will make 100% of people happy, not even a room full of puppies. Someone even told me that writing notes to my kids isn’t parenting! Those that criticize or leave nasty comments on messages to my kids need to reevaluate their life decisions. And I know not every note I write is a hit. I’ve had my fair share of misses too.
4. You recently Tweeted, "I have battled depression and anxiety since I was 15, and I am grateful for the #mentalhealth services that have helped me." I'm interested—what services have helped the most? And how do you deal with anxiety/depression on the day to day?: I am an open book about my mental health journey and struggles. I went to a private high school and didn’t have many friends, didn’t really fit in. I didn’t find my stride until college, but that in itself had problems at times. My mental health plummeted when I was as Assistant and Associate SID at Baylor University from 2008-2012. I endured workplace bullying from my boss and two colleagues who were my age. I got a lot of attention nationally while I was at Baylor and they didn’t like it. Rock bottom however didn’t happen until I was let go at Georgia Tech in 2016. My boss blindsided me. But seven therapists later (from 2009), I am in the best place mentally and emotionally I’ve ever been. It’s OK to not be OK and talking to someone is the best thing. The services and people NAMI offer are second to none and I hope more people who need help lean on them.
5. You mentioned your kids have faced middle school bullying. As a parent, how did/do you deal?: My wife Ashleigh and I dealt with bullying in school so we know how it can affect you. As a parent, our first thing is to make sure our kids are OK and learn more about what’s going on. Then we give them the tools they need to try to mitigate those situations (like walking away, telling a teacher, etc). As someone who has spent the last decade in various levels of education, I am involved in my kids’ education (not to an obnoxious level) but I do get school administrators and counselors involved when things get difficult to manage. YOU CANT AND SHOULDN’T SUFFER IN SILENCE!
[BONUS] Rank in order (favorite to least): The Big Gulp, Creed II, Cher, the Indigo Girls, "We Are Marshall," meatloaf and fries, Caitlin Clark, hikes in the woods, the Keebler Elf, Elijah Moore: Oh, man! This is the most random shit ever But since I have to rank them … 1. “We Are Marshall” (I was a GA at Marshall when they filmed it), Caitlin Clark, Big Gulp (Diet Coke FTW), Meatloaf with fries, Keebler Elf, Elijah Moore, hikes, “Creed II,” Indigo Girls, Cher.
A random old article worth revisiting …
On June 18, 1977, Al Mari of the Reporter Dispatch took a bat to the head of Dick Young, the most powerful, most feared columnist in New York.
This is some rare gold …
This week’s college writer you should follow on Instagram …
Nathan Braisted, contributor to the Tropolitan, Troy State University’s student newspaper.
Sometimes the best thing a writer can do is make readers giggle—and that’s what I found myself doing while reading Nathan’s piece headlined, ‘ROCKY IV’ — THE ONLY REASON I KNOW ROMAN NUMERALS. Technically, the article is supposed to make an argument for “Rocky IV” being the best film in the series. And while I suspect young Nathan is on crack for even offering such a suggestion (“Creed” is elite—with no close second), he kept me reading and chuckling.
Writes Nathan: “The villains of the movie are really well done. If you’re watching an 80s movie (or even an 80s-set movie), 90% of the time, the villain is going to be Russian. You think Red Dawn would have been half as good if Patrick Swayze was attacked by Antarcticians? Absolutely not.”
Indeed.
One can follow Nathan on Instagram here. Bravo, kid …
Jim Murray speaks with …
A new feature to the Pearlman Journalism Substack—thanks to the warped geniuses at Chat GPT, we can sorta kinda see what would happen if Jim Murray, the late/legendary Los Angeles Times columnist, sat down with three random celebrities. This week, here’s what GPT offers from Jim’s meeting with the Nation of Islam minister Louis Farrakhan, former party animal Spuds McKenzie and my mom, Joan Pearlman …
Jim Murray: Good evening, everyone. Welcome to our show. Today, we have three very special guests with us. We have Louis Farrakhan, controversial leader of the Nation of Islam, Spuds McKenzie, the original party animal, and Joan Pearlman, a 75-year-old who bakes outstanding cookies but struggles to figure out which emojis to use when texting her grandchildren. Welcome to the show, everyone.
Louis Farrakhan: Thank you for having me, Jim.
Spuds McKenzie: Woof! Thanks for having me, Jim. It's great to be here.
Joan Pearlman: Thank you for having me, Jim. I'm excited to be here.
Jim Murray: Louis, you've been a controversial figure for many years. What motivates you to speak out on issues of race and politics?
Louis Farrakhan: Jim, I believe it's important to stand up for what you believe in, even if it's unpopular. I have dedicated my life to fighting for justice and equality for black people, and I will continue to do so until we achieve true equality.
Jim Murray: I understand your perspective, but some of your statements have been criticized as divisive and inflammatory. What's your response to that?
Louis Farrakhan: My response is that the truth can be uncomfortable, but that doesn't make it any less true. I speak the truth, and I will not be silenced by those who disagree with me.
Jim Murray: Spuds, you were the original party animal. What was it like being a cultural icon during the 1980s?
Spuds McKenzie: Woof! It was pawsome! I got to travel the country, party with celebrities, and drink all the beer I could handle. It was a wild ride, let me tell ya.
Jim Murray: Joan, you struggle with figuring out which emojis to use when texting your grandchildren. What do you think of emojis?
Joan Pearlman: Oh, I think emojis are wonderful! They're such a fun way to express yourself and add some personality to your messages. But sometimes, I just can't figure out which one to use.
Jim Murray: Louis, you've been accused of making anti-Semitic and homophobic statements. What's your response to those accusations?
Louis Farrakhan: My response is that I stand by everything I have said. I do not hate Jews or homosexuals, but I will not be silenced by those who disagree with me.
Jim Murray: Spuds, you were a cultural icon during the 1980s, but your popularity waned in the 1990s. What happened?
Spuds McKenzie: Woof! Well, Jim, I guess people just got tired of the party scene. It was time for a new icon to take my place.
Jim Murray: Joan, do you have a favorite emoji?
Joan Pearlman: Oh, I don't know, Jim. There are so many to choose from! I think I like the heart emoji the best, though. It's such a sweet way to show someone you care.
Jim Murray: That’s great. Is there a secret to your cookies, Joan?
Joan Pearlman: Oh, I don’t know. If you bake for people you love, it shows.
Jim Murray: Louis, what's next for you and the Nation of Islam?
Louis Farrakhan: Jim, we will continue to fight for justice and equality for black people. We will not rest until our voices are heard and our rights are respected.
Jim Murray: Well, that's all the time we have for today. Thank you to our guests, Louis Farrakhan, Spuds McKenzie, and Joan Pearlman, for joining us on the show. And thank you, as always, for tuning in. Goodnight, everyone.
Journalism musings for the week …
Musing 1: A nod toward the sky in honor of Jerry Green, the terrific Detroit News columnist who covered (and you’re not misreading this) 56-straight Super Bowls. Green was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2005 and the Michigan Sports Hall of Fame in 2003, and wrote a boatload of books. RIP.
Musing 2: I know few members of the media with the integrity and decency of Mike Moodian, who put everything he had into the documentary, “Coastal Crisis: California’s Vanishing Beaches.” A few days ago Mike’s film was nominated in the Best Long Form Program or Documentary category at the Golden Mike Awards. Mazel to a gem of a human.
Musing 3: Suzanne Young, the New York Times best-selling author, uses Twitter to remind us all that book events are … fucking terrifying. And if you’re a writer, you might wanna make sure friends and family members will be turning out. Because it can be a lonely little night from hell.
Musing 4: I’m not going to name names, but the other day I read a piece in The Athletic where the author kept quoting his own past work. A bit of advice from ol’ Uncle Jeff: Don’t do that. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever.
Musing 5: So part of working on a Tupac Shakur bio (as I’m doing as we speak) is exposing yourself to all sorts of related music. Which is why I’m now obsessed with the posthumous piano album via Shock G, the former Digital Underground frontman. For my money, Shock was one of the true creative geniuses of his time, and if you need proof just pick up a copy of The Piano Man. It’s magic.
Musing 6: What a powerful column from Margaret Renkl, a contributing opinion writer for the New York Times. Headlined, AN OPEN LETTER TO GOVERNOR LEE ON THE SLAUGHTER OF OUR CHILDREN, Renkl asks Tennessee’s pro-gun governor, in short, “Where the fuck are you?”
Musing 7: Few articles reflect the modern state of journalism quite like THE CALIFORNIA NEWSPAPER THAT HAS NO REPORTERS LEFT by the Los Angeles Times’ James Rainey. Don’t cry.
Musing 8: Really great piece from Luca Evans (also of the Times) on Bronny James, LeBron’s son. Is he overrated? Underrated? Read here.
Musing 9: What an oddly grim, fucked-up piece from Justin Horowitz of Media Matters on the No Jumper pod, which has transitioned from covering hip-hip and urban culture to … boosting white supremacy.
Musing 10: The new Two Writers Slinging Yang features Dahlia McCutchen, author of the gripping memoir, “I Testify.” Her life journey—sheesh. Just … sheesh.
Quote of the week …
"You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it."
To be clear, I used “midget” above because that’s what entered my mind. It’s not a phrase I would ever use in 2023
I can’t lie and say that 22-year-old dickhead Jeff wasn’t a bit intrigued by the potential scene.
And author of my all-time favorite lede.
luved the April Fools one
I am definitely going to check out - and, no doubt, enjoy - The Piano Man.