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Fantasy Amateur, v. 8, issue 3, April 28, 1945
Inside back cover
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official editor's message I* The next mailing goes out on time. Get that, chums; on time. The week after we get the mailing out, we leave for LA. After that, we leave for the Merchant [Machine?]. No dilly-dallying or messing around with deadlines. If you can't meet the second Saturday in Jult deadline, don't send your crap in. II* Concerning outself: Those moan-offs, the boys with the aching bellies--[illegible], Washington, Laney, Thompson, [Widner?], Ackerman, etc--who have yeled like a [drunked?] sot with the D T's every time a copy of SAPPHO was dished up for their perusal, via fapa, needn't blow their bazoons any longer. SAPPHO will no longer be circulated through fapa, chums, since a printed (in all probability) magazine would look slightly out of place among the messily mimeographed heaps of hodge-podge which make us an average fapa mailing. Too, Geo and I can no longer fool around with circulating it through an amateur organization, since it's present semi-professional outlook and appearance will soon become strictly professional. I'll be polite and say that it would jar severely with its surroundings. III* We mimeographed Joe's TWILIGHT ECHOES this time (stenciled it too) because Fran's time was too short or something. Since Fran his repeatedly expressed his intense disgust with fapa and its dimpled darlings, we don't know whether or not he will continue to be with us, er, you. Which leaves us with a problem, to wit: Who is going to run Fortier's stuff..? IIII* The cover this issue is by Doc Lowndes, the abhored rascal who has virtually plunged fapa into a chaos from which it will undoubtedly never recover. Or something. Anyway, we liked it; so did Shaw. We printed it. If you have any complaints, register them with Ashley. He's the big-boy with the billy club who takes care of all miscreants and low-[lifed?] bastids like myself. V* We're footing the bill for the FA, and for the envelopes, not because we're rolling in the green stuff, but to show that our heart's in the right place. We like fapa; we even like some of the people in fapa...but enough, ere Willie commence to tread of a few toes... VI* A suggestion: Langley wants some off [dial?] notice, hereafter, of changes [illegible] office. Might I second his suggestion? During the last election there was a [helluva?] messy mix-up, and during this present trouble there was no official notice until it was too late, of who was OE, etc. We have been getting postcards and letters for a couple months, asking us if we were OE, and whether or not peoples' bundles were being shipped to the right place. For god's sake, is this an organization or a three ring circus? And don't drag in that chestnut about it all being the Futurians' fault. It ires, gripes, & pains us. Just like when we walk into a store to buy a pair of slacks; if we don't buy the 1st pair we see--the salesman askes us if we're getting choosy and DYKTAWO? Everything's being blamed on the war; everything's being blamed on the Futurians. Bah. We ask the reader to kindly overlook the general messiness and put-to-getherness, or rather, thrown-together-ness, of this issue, especially since we just moaned about the sloppy fapa output, but it's the result of having officers who got their messages and stuff in at the last moment. Thanks, Suddsy, for sending yours is early... Watson
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official editor's message I* The next mailing goes out on time. Get that, chums; on time. The week after we get the mailing out, we leave for LA. After that, we leave for the Merchant [Machine?]. No dilly-dallying or messing around with deadlines. If you can't meet the second Saturday in Jult deadline, don't send your crap in. II* Concerning outself: Those moan-offs, the boys with the aching bellies--[illegible], Washington, Laney, Thompson, [Widner?], Ackerman, etc--who have yeled like a [drunked?] sot with the D T's every time a copy of SAPPHO was dished up for their perusal, via fapa, needn't blow their bazoons any longer. SAPPHO will no longer be circulated through fapa, chums, since a printed (in all probability) magazine would look slightly out of place among the messily mimeographed heaps of hodge-podge which make us an average fapa mailing. Too, Geo and I can no longer fool around with circulating it through an amateur organization, since it's present semi-professional outlook and appearance will soon become strictly professional. I'll be polite and say that it would jar severely with its surroundings. III* We mimeographed Joe's TWILIGHT ECHOES this time (stenciled it too) because Fran's time was too short or something. Since Fran his repeatedly expressed his intense disgust with fapa and its dimpled darlings, we don't know whether or not he will continue to be with us, er, you. Which leaves us with a problem, to wit: Who is going to run Fortier's stuff..? IIII* The cover this issue is by Doc Lowndes, the abhored rascal who has virtually plunged fapa into a chaos from which it will undoubtedly never recover. Or something. Anyway, we liked it; so did Shaw. We printed it. If you have any complaints, register them with Ashley. He's the big-boy with the billy club who takes care of all miscreants and low-[lifed?] bastids like myself. V* We're footing the bill for the FA, and for the envelopes, not because we're rolling in the green stuff, but to show that our heart's in the right place. We like fapa; we even like some of the people in fapa...but enough, ere Willie commence to tread of a few toes... VI* A suggestion: Langley wants some off [dial?] notice, hereafter, of changes [illegible] office. Might I second his suggestion? During the last election there was a [helluva?] messy mix-up, and during this present trouble there was no official notice until it was too late, of who was OE, etc. We have been getting postcards and letters for a couple months, asking us if we were OE, and whether or not peoples' bundles were being shipped to the right place. For god's sake, is this an organization or a three ring circus? And don't drag in that chestnut about it all being the Futurians' fault. It ires, gripes, & pains us. Just like when we walk into a store to buy a pair of slacks; if we don't buy the 1st pair we see--the salesman askes us if we're getting choosy and DYKTAWO? Everything's being blamed on the war; everything's being blamed on the Futurians. Bah. We ask the reader to kindly overlook the general messiness and put-to-getherness, or rather, thrown-together-ness, of this issue, especially since we just moaned about the sloppy fapa output, but it's the result of having officers who got their messages and stuff in at the last moment. Thanks, Suddsy, for sending yours is early... Watson
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