You close your eyes. You open them– it is nighttime in the Bahamas. You’re not sure of the date. When you look in the rearview mirror, you confirm what you suspected all along: that you are, in fact, TV personality Geraldo Rivera. You touch your moustache and let out an exclamation, but it comes out sounding like an interdimensional horror choir– the multitude of voices all off key, in different octaves: “hO{Y sHiiii!!!iiit, I-I-I-I’M yOuuuuR hOwwsT,,,,,,gERAww{-do rIVeeeeRa.”

Yes, everyone knows you. The guy who said he was going to bust into Al Capone’s vault to uncover his incredible treasures (1986), only to find some dusty beer bottles, aka the Most Disappointing Moment on Television and the Beginning of the Age of Disenchantment. The guy who got his thumb bit by a KKK dude in Janesville (1992). The guy who started a riot on his show (1988) when he invited white supremacists, anti-racist skinheads, black and Jewish activists to share the stage. Gee, what could go wrong there? In the brawl that followed, you got your nose broken with a chair, but the ratings! The ratings! That’s how you did it in those days. Let’s see Sally Jessy start a race riot. Let’s see old man Donahue take on GG Allin (1992)! Not likely– if you want it done right, you need the man with the stash, the man with the plan, yours truly, Geraldo Rivera.

It wasn’t always that way, of course. There was time before all the sensationalistic crud. You put both hands on the wheel, your shoulders right back and smile as the palm trees whiz by and remember what should be the highlight of your career, the stuff you should be remembered for (but won’t). A flashback to 1972– you’re a young man, a reporter for Eyewitness News, and you bravely sneak into Willowbrook State School to uncover and break the story of the atrocities happening at this mental health facility. You win the fucking Peabody. John Lennon watched and was moved and you and him set up a benefit concert for the victims in Madison Square Garden. Geraldo Rivera, National Hero!

You decide to ride the crest of that wave and not the years of being a FOX flunkey that followed, the time you blamed a black kid’s murder on his hoodie, or accidentally gave away troop locations and got kicked out of Iraq. You lean over and open the glove box, unwrapping a plastic sandwich baggie. Inside are a few chalky white tablets. You pop one in your mouth, roll it on your tongue, then swallow, wiping your moustache, eyes on the road here in the beautiful Bahamas. Some time later– it’s hard to keep track, you feel your muscles melt in warmth, a sense of euphoria washing over you. I am the Walrus, I am the Geraldo Fucking Rivera, goo goo g’joob. You look up at the starry sky and then your head fills with a brilliant light when you realize your next big scoop– you need to travel to another planet and get punched in the face by an extraterrestrial. The ratings!

Just as you have this thought, you see something incredible in the tropical air. It’s something important– almost as important as seeing the ratings after your Murder: Live on Death Row special. It’s otherworldly. A glowing craft in the sky above you, over the island.

It looks like a great big North star, you think. It’s brighter than the North star is, and it’s right on the horizon there. You try to avoid it by steering around it, but it keeps following you.

You are transfixed, but you are suddenly sucked forward in time. It is 2022 and you’re trying to tell the story on the FOX show The Five, but your colleague Emily Compagno is chastising you for driving while high on ecstasy. Where’s your Peabody, Compagno? When was the last time a racist hit you across the face with a chair? When was the last time you took molly and came face-to-face with the very fabric of the Mysteries of the Universe? You are not Geraldo Rivera. But I am.

Source: “FOX News’ Geraldo Rivera claims he saw UFO while ‘stoned on ecstasy,'” nypost.com, May 18, 2022.

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My latest books are:
Brady Street Pharmacy: Stories and Sketches (2021, Vegetarian Alcoholic Press)
American Madness: The Story of the Phantom Patriot and How Conspiracy Theories Hijacked American Consciousness (2020, Feral House)