THE WHITE ISSUE: Fly Paper

We are all connected to the spirit of the universe by two things: the air that we breathe,
and the white cords that lead to the 10,000-song random playlist of our collective souls.
Our souls are inside those white boxes that hold both our love for all things Buckley,
and that one really good song by Ashlee Simpson. See, we are all white. Not in a socially
constructed racial sense, but more in a high consumer, who is more fashionable than the
next sort of way. And with our little white boxes of consciousness and creativity, we are
all plugged into the same groove. We are all led around by those little white earpieces,
that play the soundtracks to our true selves. They allow us to stand in the dreadful line at
Pathmark and be completely away, by simply plugging into our whiteness. They are the
white cords to a better life that no longer lives in these shoes.

In 1968, The Beatles gave us a little white box of randomness in the form of The White Album,
a double album that broke creative ground in pushing music to the edge. It was a completely
beautiful mess, a broken mirror, a Basquiat painting. They pushed the range of their music
from pre-mental, to country and to ballads - all in one collection, one little white square.

In this issue, we offer you our part in the cumulative collection of the groove. We offer you
our own little white square that you can put on random and plug into. We offer you our own
rendition and collective interpretation of The Beatles The White Album, as told by us the way
that we see it.

Think of this magazine as your own personal white box that can take you out of here by
simply turning the page. Cuz, truth is, I really don’t trust those other white ones….

*plus the other white ones won’t advertise with us.

Stephen A. Crockett Jr. - Editor- in- Chief