The Death of a Thousand Cuts
The message from the staff has been received loud and clear: they hate "Summer Reading" issues of The Newsletter and are entirely unwilling to participate them. Not one of them came out and told me that, no one objected when I informed them of the suymmer schedule, including two "Summer Reading" issues, they just failed to submit any material for "SR." Okedoke, there will NEVER be another "Summer Reading" issue of The Newsletter, not as long as I live and breath. I don't care if Zooey Deschanel asked me to bring it back*, that ship has sailed. The reasonable thing to do would be to accept the failure of "Summer Reading," allow myself to feel both disappointment and regret, and move on to the next issue.

Instead, I decided to kill The Newsletter. I put more time and energy (and yes, as long as we're talking about it, money) into The Newsletter than the rest of the staff combined. They don't have the right to be disinterested in "Summer Reading." "SR" has been a part of The Newsletter since Volume III, the summer of 2002, our first summer; "SR" isn't just another occasional feature, to my mind it is an integral part of The Newsletter. I do 90% of the work for The Newsletter: I send out the submission schedule, I gather the submissions, I mock up the issues, I produce the Xeroxes, I address the envelopes, I seal and stamp the envelopes, I do all of the grunt work... and I write at least as much if not more than anyone else. If I'm going to do all that work, is it really too much to ask to set the parameters for the blasted thing? Apparently so, because those ungrateful bastards hate "Summer Reading." Who are they to decide what will and won't constitute The Newsletter?

But I know myself well enough to know I don't have the chuzpah to kill The Newsletter, not in one fell swoop. My dedication to spite is not that strong, and I hate myself for it. My only redemption lies in that my heart is black enough to kill The Newsletter by inches. I will end it through a concerted policy of malign neglect. It is not my intention to boast (too late?), but The Newsletter cannot long survive without me, without my enthusiasm. Now someone else can be the cheerleader. Someone else can be the idea man. I'm done trying to improve The Newsletter. I'm on autopilot, just like everyone else. I care exactly as little as they do.

I wonder how long The Newsletter will last without a heart. I'm going to be devastated when it finally ends, but no one ever said being spiteful would be easy.

*This is clearly a lie, since we all know that if I ever actually met Zooey Deschanel I'd be putty in her hands.