Originally published in the July 1987 issue of the Collector and Emitter.
Homer Klott, whom our own Q. R. Zedd, A5A, vowed to make a radio amateur back in December, has been trying.
So far, Homer has failed his Novice exam in Norman, Tulsa, Oklahoma City (three times), Blanchard and Moore. It is rumored that he may be the first recipient of the FAC (Failed in All Cities) award, which could become as honored and rare as the CATT and coveted Yoder Kritch awards, the latter being held only by the legend of Richardson, Tx., WA5MLT.
Homer, however, is undaunted.
“I are undaunted,” he proclaimed, arriving at Zedd’s Honor Roll Ranch, just a hoot and a holler south of town, for another round of tutoring. “Heckfire, boy! I am deter-mined I am gonna become one of them armature radio fellers an’ git into all them neat stuff like packet an’ Conoco.”
“Conoco?” Zedd echoed sharply, dropping one of the unfiltered Camels he has started smoking lately in response to the stress of Homer’s stupidity and Tondelayo’s delicate condition. “What is Conoco?”
“Conoco!” Homer yelled. “You know, when you talk to them faraway radio fellers! You are the king of it!”
“That’s DX,” Zedd winced.
“Well, I knew it was one of them gas stations.”
Zedd — in case you are just back from Venus and don’t know — is the world’s greatest DXer and all-around wonderful fellow. Holder of the nation’s only lx1 callsign, he was worked all stations on all bands, all modes, all frequencies. He is only operator from this planet to work Saturn, and he has a card to prove it. What he doesn’t know about radio has not been discovered yet. He invented radar, single sideband, and the plastic milk carton. Son of the great, late Zepp Zedd, who died on a DXpedition to Tibet way back there, he is the only offspring of Constance Wilhemina Zedd, of Mena, Ark., world champion CW operator and break dancer. He is —
But most people know all this stuff and a lot more, and if you don’t, you’d better just consult your Who’s Who.
Zedd has never failed at anything he ever tried.
He has been trying to activate Homer’s brain cells (or cell) since early January. His pride is on the line, and he, like homer, doesn’t want to give up.
Sitting Homer down in the Honor Roll hamshack, the great man tried to be calm. Somebody had already hidden his sixshooter.
“Now, Homer,” began the great man, combing his fingers through rapidly graying hair. “Let’s define a few terms, okay?”
“Forty roger!” Homer screamed. “Sock ‘er to me, OP!”
“That’s ‘OM’,” Zedd said through locked teeth. “It stands for ‘Old Man.’ See –”
“Sex discrimination!” Homer yelped. “I learnt all about them in my graduate seminar in hoomin relations there at OU! You gotta say ‘Old Person’ or you is some kind of sexual deviate or maybe even a laxative!”
Zedd went through drawers. “Who took my gun?”
“Fire me queries, not bullets, OP!” Homer chortled.
“Okay. — Ground. — Define ground in terms of the hamshack.”
Homer frowned. “That are a hard one. Ground. Ground is what you put you feet on solid of, to be reponsible. It are also the thing you drive you a ground rod in, and it need to be deep, so the wave won’t do a ground loop and mess up your valiant electrons.”
“You –” Zedd began, smoke coming out of his ears.
“All ground are in the earth,” Homer went on, “which is why you see a ‘E’ on Japanese steamatic drawings sometimes, unless you is in an airplane in which case you don’t.”
Zedd lit another Camel. His yellowed hands shook badly. “Tell me –”
“Some grid are grounded,” Homer added. “But not the one at Owen Field, it is Tartan Turf or some like.”
“Give me a frequency you can operate on with your Novice privileges,” Zedd asked. “Any frequency.”
“Three times a week,” Homer shot back. “But if more often, you learn them CW faster because it is all in the head, and a matter of practice.”
“What is Ohm’s Law?”
“Serious!”
“How often must a station identify during a QSO?”
“At least ever’ ten minutes, an’ at the start an’ end of the contact!”
Zedd fell out of the chair. Beer and cigarettes went everywhere. As he climbed back to his feet, there were tears in his eyes and he could be heard murmuring words of gratitude to the deity.
He composed himself. “Homer, you got one right. How did you do it?”
“I learnt ’em, OP!”
Zedd turned to your intrepid reporter, who was also dabbing at tears. “There may be hope!”
He turned back to Homer. “How about some CW?”
“Roger forty!” Homer cried. “E is short an’ T are long! M are two an’ Y are strong! Z are hard but 0 are level, an’ you can learn Q if you work like the devil!”
Zedd clenched his teeth and sent good old Homer a T. Homer licked his pencil and frowned a lot and thought real hard, and he got it after only four minutes, and wrote it right down on his Big Chief tablet.
Zedd left the room to look elsewhere for his gun.