Nice and Ticklish Discussions
In the course of human history, the burden of responsibility is sometimes put upon our shoulders. Nay, thrust upon our shoulders, like someone tossing a great big bag of fertilizer and telling you, "Hey! March up that hill and start spreading that crap around the field and when you're done come back down to get some more! Strawberries won't grow on their own!" Which is funny, because, on the way up you can't help but notice that the strawberries are growing on their own, right there, next to the ditch with the unhealthy-looking water and bits of metal from some ill-advised car ride down this very narrow dirt path a few years ago.
Which is exactly what happened. And don't tell anyone, but the car crash was mine.
All right, I have to admit it, we've had other stuff on our minds, lately.
Like... well, you know, other stuff. Not of Sane. So that explains why we've been so damn late of late.
I feel like I may have to re-enroll in college, just to have the excuse I used to have back in the day, as they call it. Back in the day when I could just blow off Sane and no harm done.
Now, though, as several major global economies depend on the appearance of Sane Magazine each and every Monday (not least of all for the horoscopes, to figure out just what's going to happen that week) we feel a deep and abiding responsibility to get Sane out in a timely fashion now.
Of course, feeling the deep and abiding responsibility to publish Sane each week doesn't mean we'll actually go on and do that. As evidenced by the last few weeks.
But we're working on it, I swear. Amidst all the dust and debris in the office, the shocking number of crumbs found in the secretary's computer keyboard, and the overgrown spider plants, we are endeavoring to get ourselves back on track, on time, and providing the world economy a good kick in the pants, once again, each and every week, promptly on Monday or so.
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