Just because you care about someone doesn’t mean you know how to spell their name. Especially while singing.

Welcome, welcome, to the April 2015 issue of Defenestration, marking our 12th volume in this ridiculously long-running magazine of ridiculousness!

I’m not going to write a particularly long editorial this month because my computer is on its deathbed and doesn’t like to run for more than 20 minutes at a time before freezing up or crashing. You can’t trust technology, but you also can’t live without it. Or you at least can’t convince yourself that you can’t live without it. There’s a powerful message hidden in there, but I’m too lazy to find it. I’ll just be content with rushing through this editorial before the computer explodes. Can I write two more paragraphs? Read on and find out!

This city disgusts me. I crouch up here on the corner of a building, looking down at these streets below me and all I can think about is the cesspool that this town has become. I can only imagine the community swimming in cess, with a cess lifeguard yelling at the cess kids to stop running, lest they slip on cess, just replace the community with murder, the life guard with corruption, and the kids with robbery or something. That’s what I see in this town.

Chad Faustus: Hey there! Thanks for coming in! Would you like any water or coffee or anything? Free trade organic! Our barista will make it any way you wish!

Lucifer: Teas richer than those of the ancient Five Emperors can fill your cup for all your days, and I can do greater things than these…

Bartholomew Xander Wohlblätter III threw open the door to Indiana Scones and the Raiders of the Lost Latte with significantly more effort than was required. The little bell that hung from the entryway rang madly from the effort, like there was a tiny hunchback sitting on top of the door and just going absolutely nuts on it. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to watch the visibly frustrated man enter.