Meet Gazellius Maximus, Editor-in-Chief

Every newsroom has a reporter who misses deadlines. Ours has one who misses centuries, and he runs the place.

Gazellius Maximus joined The Belated Gazette after a distinguished career of arriving just after things happened. He reached Pompeii with an umbrella. He showed up at the signing of the Magna Carta with a nicer pen. He covered the Battle of Hastings in the year 1974, and his reporting was, by all accounts, extremely thorough.

Critics call him "late." Gazellius prefers "unhurried." Where other journalists rush to file before the facts are in, he waits until the facts are in, settled, footnoted and printed in several textbooks. The result is a perfect accuracy record that he mentions at most dinners.

He writes every issue by hand, on a typewriter, in a Roman helmet, which he insists is for "editorial gravitas" and not because he can't get it off. His newsroom runs on coffee, crumpled drafts and a wall clock that has never once been consulted.

Despite his speed, he is a gazelle, a creature capable of 60 miles an hour. Asked why he never runs to a story, he said, "The story isn't going anywhere. It already went."

When he isn't working, Gazellius enjoys chariot racing, long naps and correcting people who say something is "old news." There is, he points out, no other kind.

Gazellius Maximus is a fictional mascot. Any resemblance to a punctual journalist is coincidental. Send him a letter via the contact form; he'll get to it.