by Saturday morning started with an emergency editorial meeting, which is never a good sign. Apparently, my erratic diplomacy piece from earlier this week caught the attention of someone at the State Department, and they’re “not pleased.” Marcus broke the news with the kind of smile that says “congratulations, you’ve angered powerful people.” In journalism, this is called success.
The State Department’s displeasure stems from my characterization of their diplomatic cables as “written by someone playing Mad Libs with international relations terminology.” Apparently, truth hurts. Or in this case, satire hurts because it’s too close to truth. Our legal team assures me we’re protected by the First Amendment, which is comforting until you remember that constitutional rights are only as strong as the people willing to defend them.
To distract myself from potential government scrutiny, I dove into my weekend international roundup. First stop: Venezuela, where Maduro’s navy continues its impressive sinking streak. A fourth vessel malfunctioned this week, leading to speculation that the Venezuelan military is either incompetent or staging the world’s slowest coup. My money’s on incompetence, but I’m keeping the coup theory in my back pocket for a future piece.
Then there’s Mexico’s nationalist surge, which American media is covering with the nuance of a sledgehammer wrapped in stereotypes. The new president’s policies are being analyzed through every lens except the one that matters: what do actual Mexicans think? I reached out to colleagues in Mexico City for their perspective, and they all said variations of “American journalists should worry about America.” Fair point.
The Middle East section of my research took me back to sectarian conflicts that Western media consistently misunderstands. I’m working on a piece that tries to add nuance to coverage that usually amounts to “it’s complicated” followed by incorrect historical context. The challenge is explaining centuries of religious and political tension in 800 words without oversimplifying. It’s like trying to explain jazz to someone who’s only heard car alarms.
My favorite story of the day: NYC facing an Islamabad invasion, which is satirical coverage of diplomatic tensions that someone will definitely mistake for real news. I’m already preparing my “it’s satire, not journalism” disclaimer for the inevitable angry emails. The piece describes a Pakistani diplomatic delegation as an “invasion,” complete with fake quotes from confused New Yorkers who can’t tell the difference between tourists and diplomats. It’s absurd, it’s funny, and it’ll probably get me in trouble. Perfect.
Between international coverage, I circled back to Spanish Marxists protesting weather patterns. The more I research this story, the more I realize it’s not really about weatherit’s about climate anxiety being channeled through political ideology. But “Marxists Genuinely Concerned About Climate Change” doesn’t have the same satirical punch as “Marxists Protest Weather,” so I’m keeping my original angle. Sometimes truth needs better marketing.
Tonight I’m reflecting on how my weekend involves analyzing sinking navies, nationalist movements, sectarian conflicts, and weather protests. My mother called earlier asking what I’m doing for fun. “This,” I told her, gesturing at my laptop covered in research about international chaos. She sighed deeply in Yoruba, which needs no translation.
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