Well, it's High Noon here in...

…the downtown Townshend metropolitan area and in my small part of it, all is mediocre…practically paralyzed by the sudden realization that life is not forever, I face each day with increasing trepidation and waning hope…but with the gentle ministrations from a cute little bottle of Bailey’s Irish Crème Whiskey, coupled with a nip or two of Kahlua and all washed down with a libation by the redoubtable Arthur Guinness, I manage to cope, plus a little dope helps; I mean let’s be real here, this is no time to suddenly become abstemious – in fact, if there was never a reason to be absolutely dissolute before, this is the one I’ve been waiting for, pull out all the stops, go for broke and all that, projectile drinking, smoking up Mexico and snorting up Peru, all part of the current day in a life…well, in my mind maybe; the reality is more boring day after day fencing with the fool in the mirror…waiting for God and Godot.

I SUPPOSE YOU HAD TO BE THERE...(from NFTD Archives)

...but I'll give it my best shot...

'Big Ed', as in big biker Ed, 6-5, 280, at least an ax handle across at the shoulders, narrow at the hip, black leather-clad, drinkin' Bud, talking Harley-Davidson, Carlos Santana blasting in the background; Big Ed with his long & very gray hair braided half-way down his back, pounding down another Budweiser, having a good ole time hanging with like-minded people on this the first real weekend of bike ridin' warm weather, when suddenly from an adjacent 2nd story window, Kari, a beautiful teen-aged girl pokes her pretty head over the sill, and spying her Big Ed spins on his booted heels and throws his arms wide crying, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy golden hair...' - I hooted with laughter; it was such an anomaly coming from so unexpected a quarter...
(I should probably tread lightly here or Big Ed spin on his booted heels and walk all over me...)

IT'S TAKEN 12 YEARS, 3,000 APPROVING LETTERS AND DOZENS OF REVIEWS...

...to the contrary but finally someone's gone and done it...finally NFTD has gotten a couple baaaad reviews...and I don't mean gooood...about which more anon, meanwhile...

Without further ado I quote from page 34 of Zine World #6, Spring 1998:

#284: 'You know when you meet someone, and they say one or two clever things, so you jump into a conversation...which grows increasingly bombastic and dull, until you realize you already heard the best this guy has to offer? This is like that. Nothing much of interest, dressed up with pretty language from someone who's full of himself' - E. Persimmon, PO Box 460931, SF CA 94146

(I hate when people see through me...honest to God it's like I wrote that paragraph myself! It's just exactly what I say when I'm telling the truth, which doesn't happen very often, only I use more expletives...)

#291: 'Terry rambles on about a fictional drunk lawyer, a ghost he saw, doing shrooms long ago, Brahms, drinking and driving, how great his paintings are, and how great his zine is. The ego is strong but the writing isn't, and a lot of it seems like padding, just more words to fill the zine's six-page allotment. Terry, you're obviously convinced you have plenty of talent, so quit coasting and write something worth reading.' - Pam Yamaguchi, c/o Zine World, 537 Jones St. #2386, San Francisco CA 94102

(I'll see if I can do better; my standards aren't too severe. Like Ms Persimmon, you are very perceptive...too perceptive by half for me: once again my transparency shines through, although you’re gracious enough not to call NFTD actually boring).