by Ed Sofield
If there are any poor souls out there really wondering what this crap is (in other words, if y’all got frequently asked questions about Wednesday Again) I’m really sorry for ya. I am the one man who doesn’t have an answer.
While I would aspire to such lofty goals as answering all known metaphysical queries before I die (“Ed, what is the soul made out of?” “Well, Cindy … baachhh!!” — that was the sound of myself choking on a ham and cheese sandwhich, in honor of Momma Cass) I really don’t have enough mental material to even pull a Jayson Blair and fudge my way through it.
Suffice to say I stand in the way of all treachery and run from it whenever possible.