I want the t-shirt. Even more than my name in print. Really.
Take a look at my link for today: http://outoftheguttermagazine.blogspot.com/2007/02/12.html.
According to the list, M.C. is getting a short story published in issue 2 of Out of the Gutter. Now as delightful as that news is, one has to remember that OOTG lacks issue dates, a regular publishing schedule, advertising, and an ISBN number. So you get a t-shirt. That's right, contributors get a t-shirt. Now, I'm cool with that. After all, OOTG is a labor of love, and they want to use my story, and they are trying hard to make something cool, and they want to use my story, and they've got that plucky rebellious independent self-published home-brewed kinda vibe goin' on, and they want to use my story. So I'm cool with that. Hella stoked, in fact. And contributors get an OOTG t-shirt. Now I want my t-shirt while it is still cool. When I was a kid, you could take a climbing course at Yosemite and you'd get a shirt that said "Go Climb a Rock." The only way to get the shirt was to complete the course. By the time I was a teenager, and actually thinking about maybe taking such a course, you could buy them in the gift shop. BING! Instantly un-cool. So I want my OOTG shirt to be worn and faded by the time they are selling them in the gift shop. Then I'll be cool, see, because I eahhhhhned mine the old-fashioned Smith-Barney way, you know what I'm saying? The Tubes, that grand old San Francisco band, used to sing a song back in the mid-70's and early 80's called "I Was a Punk Before You Were." It was such fun sending up the fashionistas, openly mocking their I-got-there-first ultra-hipness. Ah, those days, those days. I want the shirt.
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