On January 1st, 1952 (past history to you readers) I expect to put out Volume 1, Number 1 of OOPSLA, my own fan mag. Sub rates are 10c per copy, 60c a year at a bi-monthly schedule. At that price goes the possibility of an annish.

The conies had hundreds of buries under these trees, so close together that the problem was not to find a rabbit, but to find a rabbit far enough away from its hole.

In the face of a world going Tilt, in the face of greed, corruption, and, feh!, enough bad writing – enough mass market, interchangeable fat fantasies and denatured novels – to fill one of the terrible and dead kabalistic universes in its entirety, Avram Davidson stayed angry and wrote for the ages.

She’s not as sexy as you first think — you’ll see she’s just HFFA once you start talking to her.