Yes, I admit it. It’s a shorter issue this month. I could just be flippant and say “It’s a short month.” Or I could suggest that my temper is short and that the paper should be shortened to match. What I will assert is that these 32 pages contain as much editorial content as I had on hand and is actually a pretty robust periodical for all that. To make everything fit I held back a profile-length, non-timely piece but 32 is a magic number, being divisible by four and also being the largest paper my printer can produce in one section. Hence no “A-12” or “B-7” but straightforward numeration as nature intended. And no wandering “B” sections! Yay!
I’m writing this in January, which I wish was a short month like February. There’s absolutely no reason to endure 31 days of this. Nor can I say that the year began auspiciously. The promise of a completely happy new year was shattered when a depraved maniac plowed into a crowd on Bourbon Street in the wee hours of January first. I know I should be more inured to people being terrible, but I haven’t quite numbed myself to that point. Somehow even substantial and regular doses of German Pilsener taken orally cannot quell my empathy. To witness a city I’ve always associated with joy and music reduced to shock and mourning right off the bat in 2025 kills me. There is not enough beer to cry into.
Speaking of which, the d
