A Letter From King Steve

Dear Reader,

Well, here it is: The TNR in magazine format, and the answer to both of you who were squealing, “Where’s the TNR?”

Oh, the blood, sweat, toilet paper (to clean up the blood and sweat) and tears that went into that sentence.
This transition was only slightly more momentous than the Industrial Revolution (see page 20) and involved a comparable amount of gin, but not the kind Eli Whitney was sippin’.

This ain’t your older brother-who-also-went-to Northeastern’s TNR. It’s no longer monthly, for one. This TNR is quarterly, which means it happens four times a year, forty times a decade, and one time per fourth year, as well as a whopping .000456621005 times an hour. As these numbers indicate, the TNR is rarer than the giant otter divided by the spotted hyena, but not nearly as cute or strong-jawed.

This TNR might be less frequent today than yesteryear’s, but we hope it’s worth the wait. This TNR is glossy. The paper used to make this issue used to be a California Redwood. (Just kidding. It was actually two California
redwoods.) This lavish expense is from an organization so poor we reuse printer paper by turning the paper over and tossing it back into the machine. And an organization that used to place little stickers on ketchup packets from Wendy’s, then put those packets into the pile of packets as a guerilla advertising technique. No, neither of those were jokes.

But we made it here, penny-pinching and all. And we think it was worth the money spent and the money saved, the jokes written and rewritten, and most of all the laughs, which usually deteriorated into groans, sighs, and tears … uncontrollable tears. It was even worth this cheesy letter from its king. The TNR is rolling on … and on … and on … and on … so don’t stop … believin’ .. strangers … searching … in the niiiiiighhttt …

Sorry, I guess I got off track. Enjoy the issue, and thanks for reading.

Steven L. Stites

King, Times New Roman