Well folks here we are. It’s a new week and that means it’s time for a new Magnes’s mailbag! I’m still stuck in the sewers in the building here but Elton Deacon found me so everything should be okay soon! Elton, for the uninitiated, is the master printer here at the Review and is a member of the local Pipe Cutters Union (Local #40024). He’s currently using an experimental saw to cut me out, well he left to go get it at the Union offices downtown (the saw is still in its testing phase), but he left me a package of pepperoni pizza Combos to nosh on in order to tide me over till he gets back!
My mailbag has been overfilled with your queries about the Review! Thanks!
Before I tackle your amazing question I want to clear something up. People have been asking me if I’m the illustrious Managing Editor Michael Magnes. No. I am not. You see I am simply Magnes and he is Magnes (no relation). He found me naked, bound, and gagged in a corn field in Iowa in 2005 while on a corn vacation. A corn vacation (or corncation) is when you relax in a field of corn for a weekend in Iowa. I’m told it’s very calming. I had no memories of my past. I couldn’t even remember my name! In his infinite humility, Michael Magnes named me after himself and then christened me his personal assistant, which at the time meant mainly rubbing his feet and downloading episodes of ER onto his computer. Fast forward to June of this year and he hired me as the Administrative Assistant for the Portland Review! Now fast forward to July of that year (whooooa whiplash) and I got fired for refusing to rub his feet, among other tasks that I thought were beneath me thanks to my new title–Administrative Assistant to the Review! (I love typing that!)!!!!!
So I hope that clears that mess up. Boy. We were sure embarrassed. But remember, Michael Magnes and I, simply Magnes, do look exactly the same and have the same name so I see how that could be confusing! We also live together. Michael Magnes is convinced that I am him from Earth-2, an alternate reality where shrimp does not exist, so he is currently looking into that. I received this email from him:
Or should I say hey shithead! Hahaha. We joke here. How is it going? Found a new job yet loser? Also, pick up some milk. Soy Milk. The one with the panda on it. That’s my favorite. Dick. Keep it sleazy.
Sincerely,
Magnes (the real one)
Now that that’s cleared up onto the question for this week!
Q: My dishwashing soap bottle is all clogged up and I need to do dishes.
A: That is not a question. That is a statement.
Even I know the difference!
I think I hear Elton coming! See you next week!
Sincerely,
Magnes
Send Magnes your life queries at portlandreviewonline@gmail.com with the subject line Magnes! Question!?
Editors note. This column is satire. Humor if you will. Our website is full of humor pieces like McSweeney’s only no one reads them. Humor may be subjective but like any art you can tell when something is crafted well. Like how some people don’t like Virginia Woolf but can appreciate the care and love and structure that goes into her work, which are the ingredients in everything we here at the Review do. With that in mind, please stop searching for our website using the keywords “Common Grounds Wellness” and “Gay.” That was made up. But I bet Jonathan Swift would have gone through the same thing if that essay about eating Irish children babies were published today. Now that was fucking vulgar.
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