May 1st, 2007
Salvete, dear readers!
I must be off to play monopoly with some aristocratic friends of mine on this fine 1st of May in but a moment’s time, wherefore I shall need to cut this editorial rather short. You see, an acquaintance of mine, Lord Leaman, once came up with the brilliant idea of making a gentlemen’s monopoly game an annual event and scheduling it on the 1st of May, as to parallel the hunger and illiteracy of the common man in a way. Lord Leaman is abroad at the moment, so Lord Muffington stepped in to take his place. In any event, the editorial it was…
Aye, once again the 1st of May is upon us, but this time around a far greater event than the unity of dissatisfied drones around the world must take precedence. I am talking of course about the May issue of Roderick Popplestone’s Arbitrary Collection, Roderick Popplestone’s Literary Wallop in the Scrotum of Life. Outside my mansion I hear the shouting of the worker bees, but I choose to disregard them as I would the pleas of a hurdle of dogs on the sidewalk. Why can’t they just be quiet and go and eat some cake or something.
Or better yet, go to their nearest magazine vendor and procure a copy and/or back-issue of Roderick Popplestone’s Arbitrary Collection. It has been scientifically proved to keep you warmer than any blanket, to be more nourishing than any badger sautéed over the open flames stretching out of a dustbin on the street, and to be far more educational and witty than any of your peers could ever develop the hopes of ever becoming.
Last month’s issue had us take on the peculiar emo poetry and that was, I’m sure you will all agree with me, not at all a mistake. Oh, no, once again my trusty staff managed to prove themselves geniuses, and for that you can be certain that they’ll receive a good, clean beating. This month’s issue, however, is even better. That’s right. This time we have dispensed with the emo nonsense and instead chosen to focus on what matters even more in life. This time, my dear readers, I have personally hand-picked the absolute best from the absolute cream of our literary contemporaries. Look yonder and peruse our elaborate and now even more sleek ‘Archives’ section, where you will find prose and poetry, the likes of which all other online literary journals wish they had, but simply don’t.
Now I’m afraid I must be leaving you, but at least I do so with a warm heart, knowing that you wouldn’t be reading this, if you weren’t at least semi-literate, which in turn means that there is still hope for this wretched world.
So, until next time we meet, don’t forget that gnawing on your own genitalia is a good, clean and wholesome and, some would say, catholically approved way of passing the better part of your afternoons.
Yours superiorly,
Roderick Popplestone |
