Originally published in the August 1987 issue of the Collecter and Emitter.
Births —
A son, 8 lbs. 10 oz. to Mr. and Mrs. Q.R. Zedd, A5A, just a hoot and a holler south of town, at Norman Regional Hospital Tuesday.
Most faithful readers will have seen the above announcement, or one similar, since the news went out on AP, UPI, Reuters, CNN, all ARRL frequencies and the C&B Bulletin. We do, however, have a serious historic function here as part of our ongoing journalistic responsibility, so we went to make sure you have the facts before getting to the other stuff we have to report this month.
Tondolayo did just fine. Zedd, A5A, world’s best DXer, was in a QSO with a rare one, no Tondnleyo understandingly drove herself to the hospital. Momma Zedd (of Mena, Ark.) was visiting, and she would have taken the deer girl on her Kawasaki, but Momma was down at Red’s in a break-dancing contest she just couldn’t leave right then.
The little mother was radiant after a labor of a few hours, and the darling baby was hollering like mad in the nursery. The boy-child was kind of purple and wrinkly and repulsive, but newborns are all like that.
The proud parents announced that they would cell the child Zepp Marconi Zedd, after Q.R.’s father and one of his ancestors on his mother’s side.
Zedd installed a CW monitor in the crib, and Tondelay recited AC theory during feeding times.
By the time you read this, it is anticipated that mommy and daddy and itty bitty Zeppy will have left the sweetsie itsie hopital and toodled home in the cutey nicey truckie, to the funny lovely ranchie forever more.
Bells rang in London at the news of the birth. The Pope issued an encyclical. The White House sent a telegram. The South Canadian Amateur Radio Society sent a flower. A few dignitaries — the Queen, Debra Winger, Brian Bosworth and the like — visited the ranch.
Last Sunday, a worldwide alert startled the USAF as an unidentified Soviet bomber streaked through U.S. radar defenses. However, it was quickly determined that the plane was on a special mission to Honor Roll Ranch from Moscow, and the Iluyshin 222-B was given a special escort through the Zedd antenna farm and to safe landing at the Goldsby International Airdrome.
When what to our eyes should appear, hopping out of the bomber, but this big dude with a bushy black beard, 44 front teeth, rumpled Russian army uniform (complete with 17 rows of medals) and posture-patty boots, loaving a trail of crushed Twinkle wrappers and empty Coors cans.
Had to be, and was, Boris Badenov, ace Soviet DXer and longtime irritant to the great Zedd.
“Where is this capitalist lackey swine, eh?” Boris roared. “I have come from beloved mother Russia, give the nerd my personal congratulations and let him feel my BY QSL card! Is big thrill for him, hah? Where at is he, eh?”
A couple of the local boys and two disgused CIA agents brought up a car, complete with multiple bugs and hidden cameras. As Badenov looked the conveyance over, out of the airplane behind him bounded thin vision of loveliness in a black leather jumpsuit, black boots, rhinestone dagger belt and crimson flaggelation gauntlets, none other than Natasha Bullwinkle, brunette, nubile, youthful QSL, secretary from Box 88 and Badenov’s constant companion.
WB5RZX tried to help Natasha into the car, but she slid nimbly aside and made a quick, savage gesture.
“Ouchl” WB5RZX screamed. “Ow! Ow! Heckl” And possibly some other words, because Natasha had stuck him with her dagger.
“You touch sexpot intellectual genius and radio sportswoman of Soviet Union, pig, and I stick you with my knife!” Natasha hissed.
“Now you tell met’ WB5RZX moaned.
“But now,” Natasha cooed, moving closer, “I see you are how you say in pig capitalist countries, kind of cute, eh? Hey, big boy, you kind of… how you say… hunk, hah? How you like some Armenia with me, do some DX, huh?”
Patriot that he is, WB5RZX declined, citing pressure of studies and the American Way. Natasha snarled a bit, but then accompanied Boris to the ranch.
We would like to tell you what happened at the ranch when the two great DXers met, and actually that was our intent when we started this article, but how space evaporates when you’re having fun, and the juicy part will have to wait until next month.