The editorial staff here at Um has, recently, found itself writing way too much (or at least more than it might normally do) about itself –we suppose that this is what we get when we sign ourselves up for a class called “Writing Your Memoir.”
Anyway.
This has prompted a not-insignificant amount of reflection about events that we like to think of as our glory days–many of which took place in the offices of the Washington City Paper. We will spare you, our loyal readers, the boring details but, as you might imagine, we owe much of whatever scribulor (yup, we ain’t to proud to coin) talent we have to the fine people who (yr gonna have to hunt for that one) we worked with (we decided to give those last two double linkage ’cause of the relative bunk-edness offered by the first redirect) at that publication.
Cherkis, we’ve found, played a very leading role in our development. If you, loyal readers would like to know why, please click yrself on over to this. It’s a classic Cherkensian hang out piece–maybe his last. Don’t fuck up. Read it.
