what good kids they are too.

they asked me to give my short bio. i told them i was an editor there on many desks from 1988-1991.

they looked at me blankly. so i asked, “were any of you even alive in 1991?”

they said NOPE!

so i told them the office looked sorta the same except we had landline telephones ringing, there was a receptionist at the door, someone was on the typewriter making story assignments, there was exactly one printer, there was a paste up area, and of course there was no internet.

other than that, everything was pretty much exactly the same.

i told them that the world is their oyster. to go for it. to cover their backyard. to own their front yard. and to stop letting the cops tell them they cant have live rock n roll in their neighborhood.

i said, “if the red hot chili peppers came to my house in Hollywood and wanted to jam, they could. in fact they could in just about any town in the USA except Isla Vista because. Because why?”

no one knew.

i said, “i dont know why either and every time you ask the supervisors or the cops or the university or the judges you need to ask them, do we not pay enough rent? do we not pay enough tuition? ISLA VISTAN LIVES MATTER!”

they fucking loved it.

then i told them they need to prepare for when shit goes down. like the Earthquake. i said giant waves might wipe out DP. if not they may wipe out the dorms. And for sure the Lagoon. which means the Office might be fucked too. Be ready. Have external battery packs ready to go. and your key to Storke Tower, maybe the only place not under water.

then i told them who’s your Weed Editor? they said what old man? I said in 8 weeks weed will probably be legal. who is gonna cover that revolution? more blank faces. So I said, make it an American Idol competition. Do it on your Instagram. Publicize the crap out of it and watch your followers surge.

one by one they hugged me and kissed me right in the mouth.

then i said how many of you use Snapchat?

every single one of them raised their hands. so they tell me, i was still getting kissed by the Sports Dept.

i said great, how come the paper doesnt have a Snapchat?

more blank beautiful young faces. yearning to be set free. i said your audience is just like you. they too love Snapchat. start delivering the news on Snapchat TOO.

they said, what if our reporter is drunk? i said, never heard of Hunter S. Thompson? go for it. but you better be as good as HST was. otherwise, if you reporter is drunk have him hand the phone over to a reporter who can aim that sucker steady.

we talked for two hours and they were happy but i was happier because i gave back to the hood. and it felt good.