We here are ushering in the New Year in the street. We called code enforcement on our scrooge-like, sexist, unlisted phone-owning, water company-cheating landlord so he keeps giving us bad references. He claims that we demolished our home and had ten extra people living here, although he confesses that we did always pay the rent on time. Aside from water damage caused by his unwillingness to fix anything, our house is in the same shape we got it in. Yeah, the wiring and the furnace are fire hazards, but we didn't do that. But, wherever we are moving to, we will have phone and mail forwarding. There may be some double-forwarding going on, though, so please be patient if you send us stuff this month. The next issue of BLT will be out in March. Deadline for our careers issue is March 3, 1993. Feel free to submit your extremely short essays on the topic of employment in the counterculture. Fuck the bank I work for! Fuck the bank! Well, I don't work for a bank, but someone from Kids in the Hall once impersonated a bank employee and it spoke to me. Anyway, tell the class about appropriate work attire, being fired, freak jobs, and what you want to be if you grow up -- a desktop publishing temp, a videographer, a stagehand, a rock journalist, an escort, a pornographer, or the manager of an adult boutique. But, enough about me . . . For now, still write us at 14207 Chesterfield Road, Rockville, Maryland 20853 and call us at (301) 871-0119. The number should roll over to a voice mailbox. Our new improved ad rates for our new improved circulation are as follows: $95 for a full page, $50 for a half page, $25 for a quarter page. We no longer accept personals or other smaller ads except in the case of trades. Note: This is still a deal as ads defray but do not begin to cover printing and distribution costs.

Your parents put up with it when you got caught painting an anarchy symbol on the principal's desk. They dealt with it when you sold your younger sister X. They only screamed at you for a while when you dropped all your college courses in October and didn't mention the fact until now. They will not, however, respond well to your New Year's Eve champagne and Percodan suicide attempt. They will blame it on us if they find a tattered BLT in the pocket of your puke-stained leather tux. We all are depressed enough as is. If you make our lives harder by siccing your grieving mom on us, we will help her desecrate your corpse by mowing off your mohawk.

Happy New Year!