Some of our more astute readers may have noticed that there was no January issue, while some of our more illiterate readers may have been frightened by the use of “astute” and are now crying and looking for an adult. We’d like to use this space to explain ourselves, and perhaps offer an olive branch to everyone who is smart enough to go to Berkeley but reads Squelch anyway.
Like most respectable organizations, the Squelch has its share of time-honored traditions. One of our more hallowed ones is going to Mexico because we fucking felt like it this time. We felt we should experience the shit out of another culture the only way we know how: eating peyote and sitting around talking about where to get additional peyote. Some of us sat paralyzed for hours, minds filled with strange images and nightmare creatures. We transcended space and time and entered some other dimension that seemed to be based mainly on LCD Soundsystem songs and being scared of dogs. Aztec gods descended from the vaulting heavens, telling us to practice human sacrifice. At least we had the sense not to listen to—no wait aarrrrrghghghg
Needless to say, with all the time we spent soaking up the scenery and getting put in Mexican jail, we didn’t have a lot of time to do things like write a magazine or get out of Mexican jail. Please write to Amnesty International and help those world citizens who need it most: white druggie college kids.