Notes from the Editor in Chief

By Sally Bullock Editor-in-Chief

o all of our faithful and devoted readers:
I would like to take this time to explain why it is that it is October 9th already and we are only coming out with our first issue of the Trincoll Journal. I could tell you that we are just a bunch of lazy college kids who often find that shirking responsibility for the bottle or the pipe is what we know and do best. Or that we simple don't give a good shit anymore about the fate of this production. I could even tell you that we have all been locked in the tunnels of Jarvis for the past 4 months as a result of a chaotic dispute with the other publications on the Trinity campus (although you probably wouldn't believe that, what with our brains and brawn and all). So I will tell you the truth, because you all must know what a devious and cut throat world it is out there.

Okay, here's the story as I know it. It seems as though the computers (and I'm not talking about some dinky little Mac SE or anything like that), all of the computers and all of the little goodies we had to go with them were some how misplaced over the course of the summer. Within a two week time period, everything that ever was was kidnapped (or macnapped, I guess it would be) and moved to another location that is unknown to us. At first, I was sure that the contents of our entire office was sitting in some dank, lonely storage room on the other side of the world being prodded and probed and utterly tortured as a result of a conspiracy against our fruitful publication. I thought this at first because of a single and somewhat ransomesque note that was poised on the desk in the office. Then my thoughts grew bigger and more illegal. Our computers were stolen and sold on the black market by some undercover agency, like those people who take out human kidneys and replace the empty hole with the head of a doll. I searched and searched but couldn't find anything that even resembled a doll's head. In the midst of my search, however, I grew woozy from all the dust and, for a short moment, I believed that aliens had some how zoned in on our meager little office and decided to take our 'archaic' machines to run tests on them. I tried to contact Scully and Mulder, but alas, Fox is dead and Dana isn't her old self any more.

So, in light of entertaining all of these extravagant and glorious thoughts of grandeur on the whereabouts of our computer, I have come to the conclusion that they we simple stolen by some petty theif who wanted to make a couple of extra bucks so that he could take his woman out for a night of romance at the expense of some hard working college kid. Don't worry, dry your eyes my faithful reader, we are not without contacts and connections. Our office has been restored and upgraded to a more professional and powerful level (not to mention that we are now surrounded by motion detecting lasers, a heat sensitive alarm system, and complimentary machine guns mounted on every wall). So, after a month of coming to grips with the cold and hard fact that material goods are more important these days than honesty and hard work, everything is back to normal and the Journal will run as scheduled. Thank you for sticking by us and I hope you enjoy this years work.

PS-
to whom ever decided to rip us off, thanks. The office looks great.