The Raleigh Hatchet, that altrag well-loved by a self-selected chosen few, is no more. It has ceased to be. It has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. It is an ex-altrag.

Or is it? Not being a resident of the Raleigh area, I have no firsthand evidence that there is no resurgent circulation, perhaps in hastily-mimeographed form akin to the much-mourned communist leaflets of this time, last century…or like the show flyers of classic ’77 punk rock (may as well unite, you have nothing to lose but your chops). Maybe the message has migrated to a more 21st Century medium, and the once-beloved Raleigh Hatchet now shares cyberspace with other such forward-thinking endeavors.

I assume that there is no more Raleigh Hatchet — because otherwise how could the domain have come to me (for all the world sliding through the night like a working girl with an appointment to keep)?

Well, I know my limits… there’s no way that I alone could live up to the ineffable majesty of the once-reigning king (or other non-gender-specific mythic royalty signifier of your choice) of alternative art and literary journalism. I’d just be one man who has never visited Raleigh talking about art and music and stuff. And do we really need another of THOSE people on teh Interwebz?

I took the detour to the dark side and ended up confused, exited but poorer. Teh Interwebx IZ good for sumptin sumptimes. I’m sure the Hatchet would approve – took out a cash advance online and used the funds to launch this website. There, the truth is out. Took a crappy loan to get there and when the totals come in, this dance will have cost me more than twice the funds I spent! My cash advance vaporized into the INterwebx at the speed of an online transaction with no regard for its negative impact on my well being, the culture surrounding Raleigh, or my own dignity. I did splurge on one item of hedonism – a sterling silver ring from, which I had to rationalize and did so without regret. Still putting any cash into a vanity exercise is embarrassing, yet sometimes necessary even though the hole it burned in my pocket may be the ruin of me. But without the payday loan or the cash advance, or the mortgage on your house, where would we all be?

The only good luck I had was a trip to Dallas where I totaled my car – rather it was totaled for me by a semi going the wrong way on the off ramp. Good luck you ask? Well excellent luck as I wasn’t killed and only slightly injured but I looked a bloody mess which was more than good luck since I was offered the services of the most excellent Texas truck accident lawyer who helped turn those gory photos of me (was only a small head gash from hitting the steering wheel), into a substantial settlement. So yeah! Great luck. And altho I hate to brag about being the pawn of lawyers, this was one instance where the law was on my side, big time! But I digress…

So while we await the second coming of the Raleigh Hatchet, in whatever form the demon may assume, pray allow me to be your guide to tweaking the noses of disinterested respectability with superficial and un-involving cultural subversion. He might not be appreciative of a culture that worships material items and glitzy traditions like gold rings and prom dresses. Or suffers the misfortunes of the power hungry oligarchy in all its forms, or the decadence of the hCG diet program. I specifically take aim at the medical dieting marketplace even though I recognize that some people are truly helped by these programs. My beef is not with an obese person trying to lose weight, but with an industry that sells unnatural fixes for a natural problem and targets your self esteem to do it. Enough said.

Music! Literature! Fashion! Events! Arts! Crafts! Television! (am I leaving anything out? Uh…) food travel leisure recreation et cetera…no subject will be threatened less equally here. By the time you’re finished digesting my synthetic additives of hipness, you’ll be so freaking cool that white rappers will be jealous and art school girls all over the world will put pinups of you in creative collages on their dorm room ceilings.

And that’s a money-back guarantee, baby.

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