Saturday evening I opened my door to see a large, bulbous package on the step. It was addressed to me, but I couldn’t think of anything I’d ordered that would look like a sack of potatoes. I dragged it inside and inspected it. Playa del Rey return address. Who the honk do I know there? Maybe it’s a UNABOMB!
I opened it up and out fell a stack of Spy magazines from 1988 to 1990, with a note from mcpino saying he was just dragging these around from place to place and he hoped I’d enjoy them. GOD DAMN YEAH I WILL.
Ann Hodgman eating dog food! Celebrity garbage! The New York Times fatality column inches calculator! MAKE YOUR OWN TWINKIE! THANK YOU!
Be My Blog 
OH MY GOD
SPY MAGAZINE
SPY SPY SPY SPY SPYSPYSPYSPYSPSY
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You’re welcome, amigo!
I was sorely tempted to re-read ’em before I sent ’em out, but realized I would either A) spend 3 days doing so, to the exclusion of anything else, and/or B) (even worse) rationalize that I still need to keep them for some goddamned reason, and not send them at all.
My pleasure, C. Laffyerassoff!
Cheers,
Pino
p.s. mebbe you can post up some of the rilly good stuff that’s still relevant after almost 20 years…
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he’s a nice boy, that Pino.
and so DISHY !
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