Issue2

It was on a lazy Sunday of goomba-stomping and glory-basking that I suddenly realized, "Hey, it's on!" And I don't mean "on" like Ted Danson in blackface, either. We're talking "on" like a toasted egg and cheese sandwich (hold the mayo). It's on like rocket pops and licorice ropes. Who shot J.R.? It's on! Like burrito sauce floors in subway station bathrooms. Like a girl with two mothers. Like Will Smith tied to the wing of a 747. Man, it's definitely on like all that shit! Bienvenidos, domo arigato, Volkswagen... it’s on worldwide, yo! Whatever happened to baby Jane? It’s on.