February 26, 2001
Last week I made it back to the States for yet another run on much-needed supplies. You'd be surprised how much salve and penicillin I go through in a week. Another story altogether. While back in the Motherland I felt compelled to poke around a bit to learn more of how this cyber-rag is faring with the ad soldiers I have relentlessly mocked. And I must admit, your thick skin and sense of humor is quite surprising. I have learned through some inside confidants that my musings have not been received with the contempt I had believed would be certain. But rather, the vast majority of my readers find this weekly publication somewhat amusing. Which causes me to think that my fear of a violent attack may be unwarranted.

Could I be reveal myself as the Editor of Adweak without risking dismemberment or a torturous death at the hands of a wild-eyed strategic planner hellbent on defending the advertising practice as some sort of religious deity? Might I be holed up in this Jungle Hell of mine, living on Dung Beetles and Bananas, nursing open sores with papaya leaves, and hiding from the Geurillas and angry natives for no reason at all?

It is still too early to tell. My head says I should begin the next issue with a large, color photo of myself and my real name in 36 point, Bodoni Condensed and take full responsibility for Adweak. Only then can I truly be free of the nightmares that plague me. The visions of a hostile crowd of ad executives ripping bits of flesh off my body and running down Madison Avenue with my bloody organs on sticks shouting, "The Editor is Dead, Long live David Ogilvy."

But what if there is one of those bloodthirsty ad execs who has had an assfull off my mockery. Someone who doesn't posses the aforementioned "thick skin and sense of humor"? What then? Will it have all been worth it?

I'm torn. On the one hand I wish I had never taken on this weekly satire. Right now I could be in Spain shooting an Immodium spot without a care in the world. Instead I'm trying to rid my body of South American diseases while hastily putting together the next issue for a self-imposed Monday deadline.

What have I gotten myself into?

–The Editor
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