when i was in college i was overly blessed. i was on the radio every week, wrote in the paper every day, i got to read and write around all these smart kids in the college of creative studies where you were rewarded for being creative instead of punished.
and i worked all these crazy jobs.
the best was being an editor at the daily nexus. to my great lucky they let me write for all the desks including being allowed to write numerous opinion columns.
back then on campus everyone read the paper. not only were we award winning but it was very funny and in the opinion pages no topic was taboo.
apparently one of them made their way to the real paper, the santa barbara news press and when they were looking for someone to write a column in their “Student Voice” deal, i got a phone call (there was no email back then).
they were gonna pay me $50 to write a column, but it had to be specific to the campus. that was easy, our campus government approved an expensive recreation center that they barely vetted. in hindsight we were right, but that thing is pretty damn cool.
the problem was, i didnt like the news press. mostly because they didnt hire any of us after we graduated. they had one guy and that was it. meanwhile we were extremely good, winning state, beating all the big schools usc, ucla, berkeley, the daily nexus should have been a pipeline to that paper.
so after i turned in my piece i got a phone call, they wanted to know a few things about me for the front page. anything look odd?
honor roll? me? excuse me as i die laughing.
also, it showed how little the news press knew about ucsb, creative studies doesnt have grades, how would i have a 3.9 gpa?
also, isnt that something you should be fact checking, particularly on something youre putting on your front page, in color (which was expensive back then)?
regardless it was dickish, i shouldta done it. not that anyone would have noticed. but it fed into my belief that that paper needed more nexus ppl over there
because where do you think i learned
fact check every damn thing