A Letter From Dave, the Editor…

As we begin to unclench our collective buttholes and make the first steps toward venturing back out into the world, I for one am rubbing my hands together in anticipation, my evil laugh hauntingly bouncing off the walls of my prison cell house. A weeklong road trip will take me in a loop from the Appalachians, to the Florida Keys, onward to the Ozarks, and back home again with plenty of friends to see and gas station toilets to take real gas station roller food dumps in along the way. I also somehow conned my family into spending all of December in the Keys, with my boat tied up in the canal that will be my rented backyard. I’ve got a few other ideas I’m kicking the tires on that include multi-day smallmouth floats, late evening sulfurs, and flooded grass filled with redfish. Denying myself of these things for a whole year seems to have pent up at least a decades’ worth of desire.

I have seen enough of my backyard. My backyard is fine. Better than fine really, it’s very nice. There are things for me to do, and I don’t have to walk very far in my yard to do them. I’ve been doing them all year. I’ve been wandering around my yard, mostly by myself, occasionally with my one clean friend, doing all the things in my yard. We covered every corner of it, even behind the shed where it got a little weird. But, this spring I

remembered that party I went to in your backyard. That was fun, right? Your yard was different than my yard. Not better or worse, just different. I need different. I’m going to come to your backyard very soon. I won’t stay forever, but I might stay awhile. I’m gonna jump on your trampoline, take a nap in your chaise lounger, and I’m definitely going to see what a hot dog tastes like off your grill. Don’t be unsettled by my presence outside your window—I’m a benevolent interloper. In fact I fully invite you to play in my backyard while I’m not around. The Slip ‘N Slide is always up and running. I may be bored with my view, but for you, it’s a whole different view. A whole weird new place to play. I also think we should go ahead and agree neither of us should shit in each other’s backyard. I know we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, but mutually assured bowel destruction isn’t the right way to go.

So there you have it. We’re all going to want to get out of the house in the near future. Mixing the greening of spring with the incremental opening of our society is sure to be both intoxicating and exhilarating, like a baby’s arm-worth of cocaine to our collective domes. But we have to remember with copious amounts of drugs, comes very little responsibility. Just joking. Don’t do drugs kids. Happy spring!