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August 13, 2001
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I know I have fallen into somewhat of a complacent rut these days but the heat of the jungle sun and unfamiliar experimental herbs have taken their toll on this weary mind. The e-mails from my loyal listeners have stacked up like rounds of killed print concepts. A good majority of these missives go something like this, more or less:
Dear Editor,
Wake the fuck up, you Godless, lazy son-of-a-bitch.
It is obvious that many of you loathe my lack of motivation for publishing (for free, I might add,) and are moved to physical violence when a click on a bookmark reveals nothing new in the way of bitch-slapping the advertising establishment.
Well, behold my friends. I have been blessed with a sudden burst of clarity and inspiration. With it comes the only thing I know how to do anymore— a fresh Adweak, with hot-off-the-grill mockery and hand grated cynicism.
Also, this little gem of a forwarded e-mail from an agency not to be named. It seems the dreadful economic situation in the States is beginning to show its ugly, foamy fangs in the most unlikely of places.
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