100 Years of Testimonials "The only things that got me through Rehab were LWOT and Jesus." "Without LWOT the Canadian Literary Scene would be saturated with the poison that is one-foot-in-the-grave award-ladened flaccid jackasses so bloated and drunk with their erect egos that they can barely turn a page during a lacklustre reading in which they view their fans as parasitic, pedestrian pawns in the canonical regime." "LWOT has cornered the market on permanently undiscovered talent." "In the early nineties, at age thirteen, I would frequently send submissions to LWOT hand-written on pink, scented note paper, and although the scribblings were naive and primarily about Ian Ziering's pre-faux-hawk, LWOT was the encouraging recipient of my early musings as a writer. LWOT saw potential, mentored and groomed me, successfully destroying my optimism and rendering me joyless. Broken, empty, and addicted to Gravol, I was able to accurately render the seedy, drunk and deceptive underbelly of Canadian University Girl culture. When the Britney Spears-esque meltdown finally came, they were nice enough to send a fruit basket and a box of condoms. For that I'll always be grateful." First and foremost a heartfelt congratulations for 100 years of great fiction. Next I wish to say how honoured I am to be asked to write about this momentous anniversary. Regretfully, I must decline. I have over the years written for LWOT but to date received no remuneration. In 1986 your magazine published an excerpt from my award-winning collection of pastoral poems, Songs On A Paddle, titled Fireflies And You On Indian Rock. There were no monies to me or my publisher. I understand that in that year the magazine had some editorial and legal issues. Still... Two years following you published my short story French Kiss French River. That story was nominated for a Canadian Bilingual Literary Award. Again, nothing. Moreover, I have created works of outstanding fiction for your Better Than Leacock Limerick Contest, Haikus of Love and Hate, and the LWOT Poem of the Century. All in exchange for nothing. Just five years ago I wrote your cover story Next Stop Moosonee? I received diddly squat. Over three decades I have dealt with shifty editor after shifty editor. There is a pile, I am sure, at your office of my unanswered letters, faxes and now e-mails. Feel free to publish those. Enough is enough. Congratulations to LWOT on their Centennial issue. It is truly mind numbing to consider the countless lives that have been affected by the magazine over the past century. Many of whom are dead of course. But that's not really the point, is it? My own introduction to LWOT was in 1988 when, after putting myself through college by working at Klempt's delicatessen (during which period I lost many of my most useful fingers), I found myself manning the reception desk of a hard drinking denturist with a penchant for the seductive rhythm of my slow hunt and peck. It was there, between deliveries of broken dentures, presented in wet wads of paper towels by smiling maniacs that I found myself perusing dog-eared back copies of LWOT, which I discovered under the sink in the loo. And in those pages I found sanity. Well, maybe not "sanity", but definitely something a step above what the smiling nutbars asking me to touch therir saliva drenched plastic teeth were offering. So, yeah, this is great. Your Centennial issue. All the best for another fifty years. Testimonials Table of Contents