Good evening, my electronic evesdroppers,
As many of you know, I'm one of a crack team of zine-weaving commandos who make the intolerably slick, glossy, and borderline-affront-to nature MAMMAL MAGAZINE. Our third issue recently exploded from the gates of publication, I suspect in spite of, rather than because of, our collective efforts. She needed to be born. Whether we successfully midwived her or not, she was arriving, even in the form of an informational pollen that settles on the brain-stem like a dusting of powdered sugar on the most sizzling, pillowy donut in terrestrial existence.
Regardless of the nature of the bound and printed beast, it's here, and readily available to any fool enough to seek out it's fevered wisdom. It can be acquired with only moderate hoop-jumping at the
MAMMAL STORE. Additionally, like a cracked and splintered old mule, I've begun carting my arcana from unsuspecting retail outlet to retail outlet, and should one approach BERGEN ST. COMICS, COSMIC COMICS, or SPOONBILL AND SUGARTOWN BOOKS, easily enough would one find MAMMAL, waiting spread-eagle and inviting, its corrupting charms naked as original sin. Purchase it not as a favor to me, a desperate and near-depleted man, but for your own edification.
As always, this blog and its addled caretaker appreciate your concern,
-THOMAS
