ello, and congratulations ! We have selected you, out of a long list of
names written on the wall at the Alamo, to be the first (not really) to
receive (as in free of charges; proton; electron) the latest (and it's
about time) and greatest (really new & improved; less gritty than most
magazines) entertainment to hit the streets. No your not going to get a
subscription to PMS Monthly (we pay for ours, you pay for your own !).
Instead, we have been reborn out of the ashes of the past. When we last
met (or if we are just meeting for the first time, let me introduce
myself- I AM CAPTAIN JON LUKE PICARD OF THE STARSHIP ENTERPRISE) THIS
MEGAZINE had been taken over by zealous financial wizards from Europe in
expectations of large profits projected by our recent reviews from
street urchins. Well somebody was wrong by a mile! After removing the
pinball machine from our third floor office in hopes of a more productive work
atmosphere, none of the staff felt much like coming back to work. In fact they all
quit! I was the only one left in the office that afternoon and I started thinking about
the time I was seventeen in high school & that girl that I liked was bending over near
her locker and - well that's another story. But anyway, I, being the laziest wasiura
on the staff, wasn't about to do the whole thing myself NO! So I took some time off,
traveled the subway underground through the whole continent, got married, and basically
just came up for air last week, so boy was I suprised when I found out someone had
jerked off the economy BIGTIME!

So I decided that what the world needs now is love sweet love and I dug out my
Mac Davis records, piled them up in the back of my Ford Tarpus and set out down the
road in search of a typewriter. I was amazed at all the advances in technology that had
taken place and some Men were still treating women like Rolodex cards. And all you high
school students that let me sleep on your parents couch during my journeys, I thank you
but I hope you'll heed my advice and BE INDIVIDUALS. The world is already full of
template John and Jane Doe who fall for every trick of the Kmart marketing department.
The solution to todays problems is Winebagos and weve got plenty of them, come on down!

For all the un-initiated, THIS Megazine
was created as a refuse for illegal poet trees
to be free of the smog of advertisements and
glossy perfume inserts. But if we ever do run
any advertisements it's not because we sold
out, we just got paid alot of money to do it!
The way the magazine works is simpler than a
Delorean. You write poetry, stories, songs and
send them in along with pictures, cowturds,
panties whatever. We take a week of our time to
search for the fountain of youth and when we
get back, if we have any time, we type up the manuscript and send it out to you. Now
we Promise Margarine to keep up with the publishing every month, and if we don't you
can call our unlisted number 1-800-EAT-SHEEP and register a formal complaint. So keep
the stuff coming and send a dollar to help with the postage (still a deal in this
economy). We look forward to rotting your brain. READ ON.......

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