Editorial: The Passion of the Truth


Come with me if you want the truth

When I was two years old my mother bestowed upon me the gift of an infant Neapolitan Mastiff, who I named Hermes. This story is not about Hermes. I only mention my beloved dog to illuminate my belief in destiny. Hermes is, among other things, the name of the Greek patron god of literature. And I had named my dog after him before I could adequately read and comprehend Latin.

My love affair with letters began before I had received Hermes, when I wrote my first Haiku at the age of 14 months. My motor skills were not developed enough that I could adequately use a writing implement, so I was forced to relate the poem orally to my nanny, Esmerelda, who wrote it on the parchment kept beside my crib.

My head like a cone,
Being born was the hardest
Thing I’ve ever done

As Hermes and I grew together in our love of nature and the arts, my reputation as an emerging literary titan grew as well. At the age of four I was granted a special scholarship to the prestigious Kilgore Trout School for Writers when a recruiter for the illustrious academy happened upon my winning submission in the ten-years and under division of the mid-west regional Guiness Extra Stout™ Limerick Competition. The recruiter raved about my exploration of mature themes and sexual adventurousness in my limerick, The Passion of Miss Hunt.

There once was a girl named Miss Hunt,
Who had such a foul-smelling cunt
When she pulled off her drawers
And got on all fours
The growth of your cock it would stunt!

My teachers at Kilgore Trout wondered at my artistic growth in the brief period between the two poems, and soon I was being encouraged to further explore my gifts through prose. Over the years I wrote countless novels, none of which I submitted for publication, due to the stubborn perfectionism of my own self-criticism. Realizing I would never allow my fiction to meet the public eye, I instead turned to investigative journalism to slake my creative thirsts. The fit was perfect and extraordinary.

In the years since I’ve covered hundreds of stories, oftentimes exposing damning secrets in search of the greater truth. My work has appeared in all the major news publications and has won countless awards, all of which I’ve declined due to my incredible humility. I am no longer merely an artist, but a servant to you, the ignorant masses. It is in the spirit of service that I have founded this news magazine. The intent is to offer the truths that other news organizations are afraid to tell. Our reporters are willing to do anything at the service of the truth, including looking entirely beyond it.

Which brings me back to the focus of this piece, that idea of destiny. All the work I’ve done to this point has led me to this destination, to my position as purveyor of truth. Some of the truths you will read here may be difficult for someone of your education and limited intelligence to fully comprehend, but do not fear; I am here to guide you. The truth is, our destinies lie along the same path. Come along. Follow me.

Salman Kingfisher, Editor in Chief

One response to “Editorial: The Passion of the Truth

  1. There once was a man from Nantucket,
    whose dick was so long he could suck it.
    He said, with a grin, as he wiped off his chin,
    “if my mouth were a cunt, I would fuck it!”

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