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MAGAZINE
This here's more of an excuse than an editorial.
Trying to get stuff lined out for Hop Up Volume V - and you can see by the new cover that the team done got it right again - it's been too busy to try to entertain myself at this. See, this is more for me than for you, but you knew that. I get to rant about loser would-be neuvo pretender convert ho-dads; I get to praise good ones like you (no, not you, you dickweed voyeur), and tell my own tales of woeful experiences trying to be a real deal hot rod guy. In here, I sound off about the visceral; the gut; what's inside a real car guy. Or what I presume to be inside one of you.
Elsewhere in the monthly bit, I sometimes have to resort to telling a 'what I did on my summer vacation' essay most of the time and, although it's meaningful to me, those escapades are my own and are...my own. Those detractors we used to laugh at, well, they get to know how high (or low) the bar is this month....and the height of the bar directly affects the resulting number of pins that get stuck in their "Morty' doll. It's like telegraphing your punches; the price of the 'public' position is a slight loss of privacy. Sometimes we feel like it may look like we're braggin', too, so then we make sure to crap in our own lunchkit so's you'll know it's not all that.
But ya gotta say something on a monthly updated web page, doncha?
If ya got something to say, it's only good, or funny, or entertaining or thought-provoking if it's founded in emotion. No, not sobbing, hanky-wrenching stuff, but the stuff you really feel; the kind of stuff that causes you to talk to yourself when you see, feel, hear or realize something profound, and know it could bear repeating if you could only figure out how to say it.
Point is, pro journalists are impinged with pictures, letters, leads, phone calls, and the ability to chase them down in the context of a work day dedicated to perfecting the product. We got less of that. Some of you cats send some neat stuff in, and we use lots of it here and there but we're hard-pressed to follow up, what with real job, home and wife, car to-do's up the ying yang, and something other than a compelling need to get famous by being everyfuckingwhere anything happens. (Get a life).
And good on the pros, that's why they usually do such a professional job. The best of them are too good for the pay they get. Labor of love, eh?
Something that just needs done?
Heard that.
But we, here, are called to glory; we got a duty: To tell the truth in Hop Up language, and to preserve the icon that we so ingloriously inherited (didn't know inheritance felt that way in the ass) and so far there's not too much complaint.
So, if we miss a month of this stuff, have mercy.
If we don't miss the month, but miss the mark...have mercy. We will try to anticipate when we got nothing to say ...and not say anything. That should be the month we miss.
We're working on a program to improve the look of the page, and in so doing we'll figure out a way to make it a better vehicle for delivery of the veritas you deserve.
Hop Up monthly, the Annuals, and more print products, are here for the long run, Daddy.
We're just adding counterweights....................
en hopup veritas
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