So, get this. I wanted to try this new bagel place that had just opened up down the road from my very modern condominium. I got in my 1968 Saab 99 in Lime Green, and put the bagel coordinates into my new GPS. Well, 3 days and 6 hours later I’m pulling into a bagel shop in Tucson with the exact same name! No skin off my pastries, I got to try some bagels and they were delicious, but during my travels I discovered I had my entire America backwards! Peaches in Arkansas? The Nevada Red Sox? Have you paddled the Bayou in Wisconsin and sampled the cheese in Louisiana? I thought I had, but my world was turned upside down yesterday when I looked at a map for the first time. Curse you, Global Positioning Systems! You’ve taken my sense of direction and reduced it to a pile of lies! Ah, damn. Well, it’s never too late to relearn everything you thought was true, and take a road trip with zero idea of where you’re going. I’ve always been fascinated by being lost. . . anyway. . . . 

Here’s our proud 7th issue. I think the summer interns are really starting to bloom. They have finally memorized my favorite antiperspirant. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Rachel and Danny are hooking up after hours between the copy machine and the shredder. Either way, it’s a dangerous pursuit. But who could be judgmental of young love? 

Enjoy, paper heathens! 

– Ed.