They say speculation is the mother of all deceitiveness. Well, they don’t say it really. They don’t even actually really mean it. Probably because deceitiveness isn’t actually a word. But it should be. And they should say it. Because it would have saved all of us at RED a lot of grief.
It’s too late now, of course. Banners have been purchased. Countless upon countless upon countless units of alcohol have been consumed. Kazoos have been taken out of their original packaging and can no longer be returned for a full refund.
So while there are still a few hours left in this the day of our supposed 100th issue and still a few drops of liquor left at the bottom of your barrel, feel free to drink them up my friend, but rather than making them drops of celebration, instead, make them ones of sadness, betrayal and deceitiveness. For just as everything else that you have based the foundation of your life upon has proven to be, this, too, has been a lie.
Yes, just as the discovery that Christopher Columbus directed that awful, awful, awful movie “Bicentennial Man” has forever tainted Columbus Day, the discovery of RED’s true origins has unsettled many University of Utah students and faculty members alike to the point of severe unsettlement.
The RED issue number discrepancy is one that has sparked debate amongst intellectuals and local community icons for years. Three years to be exact. It stems from the fact that the original editor and creator of RED Magazine, Reddy McRedpants, was an avowed and deliberate miscounter. For reasons then and still unclear to even the most fervent of scholars, he insisted that the first issue of RED be referred to as Issue No. 12. This had a positive effect on the magazine as many of its first readers were heard to remark, “wow, only 12 issues in and it’s already this good.”
Confusion mounted, however, when McRedpants followed up the highly acclaimed Issue No. 12 with the less well-received Issue No. 3. While readers initially attributed the chronological misstep to some sort of nostalgic retroism, reckoning with this was made difficult by the fact that Issue No. 3 was riddled with outlandish predictions of the future such as “Man Walks on the Sun,” “Parking as Far as the Eye Can See” and “In 2001, Music Will Be Made.”
This issue-numbering system continued throughout the duration of McRedpants’ reign as editor in chief, which lasted one more week with issue No. 87, after which point he met his final pressing at the hands of a particularly gruesome paper cut.
Interestingly enough, the first issues of RED, or the Fantastical Agricultural RED Almanac and Crustacean Digest for Kids, as it was originally known, were not so much a weekly arts and entertainment insert as a bizarre collection of homemaking tips, bathroom humor and insultingly simple word games. It was not uncommon in that era for entire articles to consist of the writer mashing the keypad out of frustration, or for music and film reviews to degenerate into pity parties for the writers’ empty and meaningless lives.
Needless to say, the inconsistent numbering and general mediocrity of the early issues makes it difficult to pinpoint the actual age of RED. While most scholars agree that there have probably been about 100 issues, the true number is actually closer to 70, or more precisely, 99. And even then, the scholarly consensus is that RED never really came into its own until issue No. 68, as famed RED historian Stuf McHistoryguy, who wrote his thesis entitled, “RED Welts on my Ass: 67 Issues of Pain,” claims.
“Why, I remember when RED was just the glint in the milkman’s eye,” said Stuf. “I’ve grown up with RED magazine. Why, I remember when RED took its first step. I remember when RED thought it could fly and jumped off the kitchen table and we had to get it stitches. I remember when RED came home drunk on prom night and I grounded it for a month. Yeah, good times.”
But others have not taken the news so well. While together for the premature celebration of their 100th issue, the entire RED staff, upon hearing this revelation, was heard to say simultaneously while dropping their boxes of wine, “What, you mean we got drunk for no reason?”
There is, however, hope on the horizon. A few minutes after the sadness of this news had set in, a lone voice chimed in from the back of the group in the form of esteemed Tower movie critic, Elvis Costello reviewer and Assistant RED Editor Jeremy Mathews: “So does this mean we can get drunk next week?”
[Note: This is funny because Jeremy doesn’t drink. Unless he’s started up recently. Lighten up people?it’s a joke. Now let’s all party like it’s issue No. 99!]
Editor’s Note: The Comical is a totally satirical Web feature. Please don’t sue. For more RED Herrings see www.red-mag.com.