Live at Five: Answers from Jake

I don’t know how many folks watch those afternoon talk shows—those programs which feature first-name hosts like Phil, Geraldo and Jerry. I suppose they must generate a fair-sized audience, though. They’re on year after year after year.

If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand it. At what point in our sociological evolution did Former U.S. Ambassadors Who’ve Been Abducted by UFOs and Forced to Watch Reruns of “The Waltons” become news? But I’m not writing here today to criticize the fluff these programs attempt to pass off as “critical issues.” I’m not even here to gripe about the simplistic answers these hosts dispense in response to complex questions.

I’m here to deliver a warning—a warning to Phil, Geraldo and Ophra. And Sally, too, I suppose: There’s an usurper in your midst.

It’s true. I met him recently at a tavern not far from my house.

He was standing at the bar ordering a shot and Coke when he first spoke to me. I was watching football on the bar’s big screen TV at the time.

“Got any money on the game?” he asked.

It took a moment before I realized he was talking to me. “What?” I asked.

“Any money,” he replied. “on the game?”

“No,” I said. He was a big guy, sporting a Carhart jacket and John Deere seed cap. He seemed friendly enough, but I had the distinct impression he could crush my little skull like an aluminum Bud can in one of his calloused, working-man’s hands. I’ve discovered through years of painful experience it’s best not to share too many of my condescending, city-bred opinions on sports, politics or religion with gentlemen of this particular genus, and size.

And I sure wasn’t going to make the unmanly admission that the only reason I was watching the game was that the bartender wouldn’t change the channel to Star Trek.

“I got ten bucks on Buffalo myself,” he said.

“Um.”

“You think they’re going to go all the way?”

If John Deere here had ten bucks riding on them, you can bet I thought so. “Seems like they could,” I said, even though I had no idea if “going all the way” meant Buffalo would play in the Superbowl or lose their collective virginity.

“Darn right,” he said. “Hey! I’m Jake. Lemme buy you a beer.”

Now, I’ve never been adverse to free beer and I had some time to kill, so I accepted. During the next few hours, the conversation between Jake and me rolled freely between sports, women, religion, gays in the military and Washington politics. And on every topic, Jake had an opinion—a strong opinion. More than that, he had the same thing all talk show hosts seem to have: answers.

Sure, they were for the most part answers that made little real sense, but when you’re 6’4” and weigh in at about 330 pounds, you don’t have to be a talk show host to share your opinions with whomever you please. Little folk—like me—tend to nod and smile a lot, which is—for the most part—exactly what I did.

By the time I left the bar, however, I had gained a genuine respect for Jake and his simple answers. Here in my hometown was a man who—with but the addition of an expensive haircut and wire-rimmed glasses—could easily be hosting a talk show of his very own. After all, Jake seemed to have every bit as good a grasp on the world and its problems as do Phil, Geraldo, Jerry and Sally.

Let me give you some examples of our dialogue:



• ISSUE: OIL SHORTAGE

JAKE: Shoot! Now that we’re not fighting with the commies anymore, we should just get together with the Ruskies and take the oil we want.

ME: But wouldn’t that go against many of the basic philosophical doctrines upon which America was founded?

JAKE: (A glowering stare.)

ME: No, I suppose it wouldn’t at that. Good idea Jake.



• ISSUE: GAYS IN THE MILITARY

JAKE: They’d be okay if somebody just bought ’em a subscription to Playboy or something.

ME: (laughing) Do you honestly believe that reading a girly magazine is going to change an individual’s sexual orientation?

JAKE: (Slams beer down on table, looks into it menacingly.)

ME: Um, I don’t know if that’s true or not, but that’s certainly how I feel.



• ISSUE: NATIONAL HEALTH CARE

JAKE: If people wouldn’t get sick in the first place, we wouldn’t need national health care.

ME: Are you implying people wind up in the hospital because they want to be there?

JAKE: Do you want to be there?


Once again, I was forced to admit Jake had a valid point, forced being the operative word. Anyway, you get the idea.

Although I spent several tense moments during our conversation fearing for my life, I came away from the encounter liking Jake, and I still maintain he would make a great talk show host. I bet he would get better ratings than Phil, Geraldo and Jerry, too. I, for one, would definitely tune in just for the chance to see a Danahue-esque triple-axe-murderer parolee bemoan the fact that the “system” has failed to rehabilitate him. Like all talk show hosts, Jake would have a solution. Sometimes the simplest answers are the best.