To the JPT civilization:

Long time no communion.  We blame fate, mayhem, idiosyncrasy and the human condition.  It falls to you to prove otherwise.  While we hold out no particular publishing schedule—check the boilerplate—always we shall preserve the unmistakable glow of life during any apparent dormancy so that never may stir serious doubt of our impending explosive resumption.  Borne now on our nuclear power of resurgence bolstered by your unflagging enthusiasm, we proceed without quibble or qualm.  The unique circumstances delaying us have resolved.  As from the core of the planet we are a fruminous bandersnatch loosed, and off we go igniting the atmosphere.  Come, then; who will breathe the fire?  (“I will, jpt!  I will breathe the fire!”) 

BOOM!  That’s the sound barrier shattering upon our reentry.  Here you hold in the greed of your gaze our second issue for year 2011, the year before the world ended.  A third issue is a virtual cinch for December, which will bring us to ¾ of our customary annual issuance, satisfying federal guidelines. Or maybe January; it might come down to what the definition of "is" is. Yes, let's look to January, as it's already the middle of October, and an issue needs to remain current for a while.   

The protracted hiatus has altered our slate of features, sundry good & decent pieces being shuffled on down the timeline.  There looms in our future a special spread of the gloriously amusing Wine & Seizures drawings of artist/sage Otz.  We will, if the trade winds hold, bring forth more of electron goddess Glenda White, whether she take the form of poem or prose.  A chance encounter and long conversation with biomedical physicist Dr. Maria Kuman has opened worlds once undreamt by the mortal mind, or even ours.  That certainly deserves a see-so.  There is also a very special treat for fans of JPT co-founder, the late Prof. Bill Schafer.  Our dear friends Char and Mike Polad have delivered to us for your eyes a collection of pop graphics created by Bill back in 19’n’72!  Back then he should have known that these would become immortal; but he could scarcely be faulted for not anticipating the medium via which it would happen, since he probably did.

Our contributors are thanked and commended for the community spirit in which we bask.  Without the generous sharing of your writings we would be forced into prostitution.  Nobody wishes it.

Our three billion or so readers, too, are commended for your taste beyond taste, your literacy beyond literacy.  Ever may you shake, rattle & roll.  Some of you are perhaps criminals. We can't really approve of that, but there isn't much we can do about it either. The rest of you: good show. Let us sing.  [Funky jam commences…]   

Thus spake Sarah Thruster.