Prelude to a Lick
by Scott Hefflon
Editor/Publisher
illustration by Opie
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in over two years of running this ‘zine, it’s don’t beat any bushes. The act is insinuating, and cute bushes sometimes have big friends. What I’m trying oh-so-subtly to announce is that, yes it’s true, LOLLIPOP MAGAZINE HITS THE STANDS NATIONALLY IN 1996. That wasn’t so hard.
Yup, after over two years of slaving like a, well, a slave to what started as a nifty little idea, the powers that be have decided that Lollipop is credible enough to put on the stands. Either that or my corporate dog brethren (and sisterthen) smell money here. Whatever. I’m too busy going for long walks with myself and writing congratulation cards to my humble self to think about such mundane issues as money. Then I wake up. Yeah, I’d love to tell you it’s been a dozen or more roses making a shitload of copies of Lollipop and then dropping them on street corners the way most people put out their trash. Oh, it’s been swell to work I-don’t-even-want-to-count-how-many hours a week to create a freebie publication that’s basically a Coupon Clipper® with text. It’s really impossible to judge who the hell actually reads (and I mean READS) the magazine until you get out there in the world and strike up a conversation with a stranger who reads it. I’m a hermit. I don’t like people. I have trouble deciding which I dislike more, the people I do know or the people I don’t. There goes that idea.
Somewhere in all this shameless idealism of putting out a ‘zine, I neglected one crucial element. Future. I know it’s not especially alterna/punk/anti-establishment/youth culture to talk about the future, but stop kidding yourself, we’ve all gotta do it. You can only live for so long scraping up nickels and dimes to get a Little Debby® snack to tide you over ’til later. When does that later come, anyway? It hits you every now and then when you, say, rack up your roommate/friend/partner’s car and, darn, haven’t a cent in the bank. That’s an extreme example (I try to limit my car-wrecking splurges to once a year). And say, wouldn’t it be nice to eat more than one meal a day? (A bag of Chee-tos counts as a meal, by the way.) It’s not as if I want to jet off to Paris every weekend with a model on each arm (they’re all married to declining movie stars or dorky musicians anyway), but it would be nice to, I dunno, do cool stuff? (Hey, I’ve been up for I-don’t-even-want-to-count-how-many hours and if I can’t think of some dreamy dream stuff I’d like to do in my spare time, well, pardon fuckin’ me.) Sorry, I slipped on my ego.
So we’re taking that big step. Newsstands. Wow. I guess this is where I’ve been trying to get since the beginning, but I never imagined this would actually work. For some reason, people like the magazine. I don’t know who y’all are, but thanks for not making me get a real job. Whew.
The thing I’m really excited about (if a music editor can have a single excitable cell left after two years) is that now we get to do the cool stuff. Watch for a wider range of music coverage, more essays and rants, and maybe even a two-page feature on some famous asswipe we hounded for a few days with a mini recorder. The possibilities are endless. So is this column, but I digress. The offer is always there for you, our beloved reader, to write letters, email our hi-tech office, or send in stuff you’d like to see in print. Even if it’s just ideas. Without getting all philosophical, you can change the world just a little bit with only a limited amount of effort (here’s how to order).
In closing, it’s the holiday season and I probably should say some festive closing remarks. I, um, can’t think of any festive closing remarks, but if I could, I’d say them. I guess I wish you a merry/happy whatever-you-celebrate (damn PC ruins everything) and all that. Try to spend quality time with people you don’t hate, and buy dumb things for people so they’ll buy you dumb things in return. Make a resolution to buy Lollipop regularly. It’s good for you.
WE DON’T HAVE A JANUARY ISSUE. So we’ll chat again in the new year. We’ll be on the stands in February. See ya.
Lick me.
