The Reader‘s archive is vast and varied, going back to 1971. Every day in Archive Dive, we’ll dig through and bring up some finds.
Fernando, unfortunately, was unavailable. Katy recruited another friend known as Doc to fill the role. Doc was Swedish. If anyone asked, Katy decided they would say he was named Fernando after the Abba song. But no one asked. Logic had no place in the world of Jerry Springer. Salem suffered a slight moral crisis when she had to sign a nondisclosure form that stated that her story was true. It passed.
She scrambled one together, throwing out my name as her lesbian friend and Fernando as her red-hot Latino lover. She was confused. She needed to make a decision. “It’s kind of an emergency!” she squealed, leaving her number, hanging up.
A producer called the very next morning. “Katy, we want you.”
One by one we signed.
I asked for a copy of the form. I was not given one.
My companions were whisked away. A producer tamed me like a circus lion.
“Jerry’s going to say, ‘What’s going on, Salem?’ And you’re going to say—?”
I smiled.
“Don’t smile. Try not to use the words fuck and shit too much.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“If too much gets bleeped, the home viewing audience won’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Can I use the word cocksucker?”
“That’s a good one,” she nodded in approval.
“Can I throw a chair?”
“That might not be the best idea,” she responded. But she didn’t say no.
