Jacka’s last words still haunted Thompson, the reporter who had been given the task of determining what it was that made up the mind of Mike Jacka. And why one person moves from the mild-mannered existence of auditing to the twisted, dark world of “blogging.”
Jacka’s life was a mish-mash of obtuse thoughts and bizarre explorations. Born on the exact day Disneyland opened. Always lived in Phoenix, Arizona. Degrees in Anthropology and Accounting. No Rosebud there.
Played fiddle in country-rock bands. Interests in amusement parks, roller coasters, geysers, and science fiction. Worked as an auditor in an insurance company more than 25 years. Married more than 25 years. No Rosebud there either.
Maybe the key was in the blog itself. Jacka had put out a declaration of principles when he first started the blog. “I’ll provide the readers with an intermittent blog that will explore themes with honesty. I promise you’re gonna get the truth — quickly, simply, and entertainingly. And no special interests are gonna be allowed to interfere with that truth. I will also provide the readers with a fighting and tireless champion of obtuseness in the name of personal development.” Lots of questions, but no Rosebud.
Maybe Jacka was the only one who could provide the answer. But he had retired — no forwarding address, no phone, no e-mail, no rosebud. Thompson went back to his editor and simply stated, “There is no way to understand the mind of Mike Jacka.”
Meanwhile, sitting on the beach, Jacka turned to his wife and asked, “I wonder if they figured out that Rosebud was just one last piece of off-the-wall information I threw at them to see if they could make the connection. Oh well, let’s listen to some more Steely Dan.”