"Who am I? What am I doing here?"

Ah, those immortal words sailing forth from Admiral Alztheimer are frozen in my mind like a fridge to the 21st Century. And there's no debate about it. What the Hell am I doing here?

You might think it's easy trying to come up with a funny, or at best interesting, well, at least, mediocre, editorial for a sap that's all tapped out after spending the better part of my waking hours working on this funny, or at best interesting, well, at least, mediocre, magazine, that I'm obligated to put out because I spent all the money that you saps were tapped out for.

It's a funny thing (quick, I better write that down - damn, gone with the wind) - well, it would have been a funny thing, at least interesting, well, at best mediocre, to think that after typing out billions and billions (where have I heard that before?) of Firesign frolics, that the ease of eloquent execution would pour out of me like the Johnstown flood.

But it ain't happenin', man. I can't leave the rest of this beta page blank, like my stare tired expression, for I know that my faithless readers are waiting for the dough, or someone like it, to rise in the bread pans of their funny bone intel chips, langering in the aisles of milestone markers on the calendars of timely fashions worn tattered and ripped beyond the fringe of the helms of self control held forth by our dear friend's admirable stockyards channeling under this editorial page boy's hair cut.

Yes, it is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, but I haven't got much hair left on the dome of the left or right side of my drained brain washed clean of anything funny to say. It's a shame and a sin, if you get my meaning, or follow my drift out on the calm sea of the stalled ships of statements. I guess you'll just skip to the next section, as if you haven't already, and I can't say that I blame you, for I know I have, and read all about the fabulous 4's fantastic formidable fortress of fun that they've built over 30 years. God is it that long? Can you imagine?

Well if you can't, it'll probably take you that long to read all this stuff, anyway. Then you will fooly realize why I've got nothing to say. It's all been said. So there!

- Frederick C. Wiebel, Jr.