The Vaults

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Ah, the slushy last breath of winter last week, melted away by the sunny face of spring! I donít mind cold if itíll snow and keep me home from work. Itís the cold rain, gray days, icy winds that make me want to move further south. But Jack Frost wonít be nipping at our noses any longer. The daffodils poked up through the snow in our yard last week to summon the warmth and sun that has blessed us since. The robins are digging for worms. The trees have little buds on them. Soon your editor will have a hormone-fueled mania that makes him even more obnoxious, slowed only by incessant allergies. Girls will wear shorter skirts and MTV will run a week of bikini-clad bimbos vying for the attention of muscle-bound morons. Spring at last, spring at last, thank the inevitable rotation of the earth, itís spring at last!

Due to strep throat and a sinus infection, we're running a little behind here at Degenerate Press HQ. But even so, the show must go on, mustn't it?

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