There was a sound behind me and I spun like a cat. Like a cat shrieking because you just ran the vacuum cleaner across its tail after hog-tying its paws and putting a burlap bag over its head to completely disorient it, but like a cat none the less and none the more.
I looked at her. She looked back at me. I kept looking at her. And she kept looking at me. “What are you looking at?” she finally asked. “You,” I replied. Because I was.
When they say… They really mean… “This is the record that’s going to break us.” = “Our last record didn’t do shit for us.” “We just played a great show with [big name band].” = “There was a last minute cancellation and we were standing outside with our gear, like we always do.”
While it was displaced from the cover story to the Letters section, cut from 26,000 words to 150, it was the most important article I’ve ever had published.
The ‘Bama Sutra: Showing in sadly explicit detail hundreds of different techniques and positions for having sex with blood relatives or the merely toothless.
This feature comes to us from Merkin Aimless, noted second-generation British satirical novelist and author of The Lode of Auld Wanque and Spent Advances.
“This, my friends with whom I’m forging an unlikely bond, is the Planet Product Placement hotel, the best place to go if you wanna contrive an exciting climax.”