To you, WM Steve Humphrey, I have this to say: I want my (insert word of curse here) tickets the the Laurelhurst, and my lunch at No Fish! Go Fish!, you pinchbelly.

At this moment, the issue is not one of necessity—fiscal or otherwise—but one of principle. You said I could have them, and I do not, in fact, have anything of the sort. Why post anonymously, you ask? Well, so I can rant about it publicly, I suppose, since you have yet to publish any of my protestations. My kindly email reminders have done nothing to sway you, so I will simply air my frustrations in the time honored tradition of internet trolls everywhere: anonymously.

I appreciate this publication, and will continue to enjoy the fine articles found therein, as well as your exceptionally good web log. I will not, however, be trusting any claims made concerning prizes, be they small or large.

(WM. STEVEN HUMPHREY RESPONDS: I, sir and/or madam, am NOT a "pinchbelly." I haven't pinched a single belly since my freshman year in college... though at the time I was experimenting with a lot of things. As for your prizes, it may surprise you that—in my high paying job as the editor in chief of a major Portland media outlet—I don't personally mail out prize tickets. That would be kind of like you cleaning your office's toilets. (Which, if you're a custodian, may very well be your job. If so, I apologize.) All that being said, according to my largely disinterested investigation into the subject, the person who DOES mail out the prizes is apparently under the impression that you're a fucking liar, because he can find no evidence of you writing any award-winning letter. Conversely, I'm under the impression I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, and you can have fifty billion tickets to the Laurelhurst and No Fish! Go Fish! for all I care. So email me your address, and I'll personally send you your prize. Because again, even though I'm frightfully busy, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. And I'm not a pinchbelly. Good day, sir/madam. I SAID, "GOOD DAY!!")