I have locked the door and bolted it from the outside. I have turned off all stove implementations and heat-producing devices, and when I couldn't turn them off, I moved them next to the cold- and water-producing devices so as to prevent a fire before it starts. I have left instructions for my papers and mail to be picked up by that greasy-headed drug-dealing neighbor of mine; in short, I'm off.

This is no mere vacation I engage in, a trip to some faraway state that's really more of the same, just to sit down for holiday dinner with people I can barely tolerate. This is a mission of life-and-death importance, and the dinner with people I can barely tolerate will have to be squeezed in, is possible, for this is serious shit I am getting into.

Readers will remember the conspiracy of such great import I have told you nothing about it, and that at the last column it came to a head deserving of popping. This is where I go now, loyal readers, and I take with me beloved anachronism Sampson L. Hartwig as a human shield; that is to say, loyal companion.

Hartwig was the only one who met my qualifications, the first one I asked who agreed to go. True, I didn't really ask anyone after Hartwig, meaning most of the staff, but when you have the right man you need why waste countless hours looking for younger, more qualified human shields? Which is to say, loyal companions?

I'm glad he's coming along, since he can carry much more than I can. Also, Sampson knows several good stories, and he's told them all in his columns so it will be interesting to see what kind of babbling banter he produces around a campfire. Perhaps his silver tongue can keep us from getting thrown out of Motel 6s when we continually light campfires, I can't say. All I know is good company is better than bad company, especially their Fame and Fortune LP.

Why the mystery, you ask? Why the secrecy? I can't tell you, damn you for even asking. You should know by now Papa Bagel dishes out the details when he's good and ready, and when it won't result in your deaths by the thousands—the thanks I get is repeated questions and inane whining buggering me like a prison bunkmate. Keep your patience, for I will return in time, and when I do, all will be revealed. Check out the Playgirl spread in March.

Until then, I leave your favorite news source in good hands. And for those of you who said "The New York Times," fuck you, that joke's old enough to travel by telegraph. For those who sincerely said "the commune," thanks for your loyalty and I promise that acting Editor Ramrod Hurley will be running a tight ship in my absence. For those of you who said "Yeah, the Titanic"… I got to give you that one. Good one at Ramrod's expense. I'm going to tell that to the office crew during lunch.

Mr. Hurley will be not only replacing me in charge of the editorial business, but will be substituting for myself in this column for the duration of my motley absence. Try to be kind to him, his evil twin brother has been showing up lately and leaving torched cars in his wake.

Why must I go, you ask? I just told you, you blithering morons. But in short, America stands for many things to many people, but underneath the political spin, the propaganda, the flag-waving, and everything else, America should stand for complete and unrelenting truth. It's what great authors have devoted themselves to, it's what the heroes of revolutions have died for, and it's what our Constitution stands to support when all else fails.

As for what complete and unrelenting truths I'm fighting for, well, again, I can't tell you that just yet. But at least I'm not going to lie about it. See you when I see you.

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