We know that The World isn’t funny. This backpage could never hope to parallel the comedic genius of The Moon’s writers. Yet, issue after issue, we try. And we fail. It’s embarrassing at times how pathetic our efforts are; we know.
However, we also know that The Moon supports itself through an annual bake sale. Imagine not having to sell entire jars of nutella for eight dollars in order to run your publication. Imagine not having to cry on the floor of the snack shack as you brainstorm ways to spin your low number of copies into a publicity stunt. Sure, we all know you made only 100 copies because you enjoy watching over the collapse of humanity. Call it Lord of the Flies, call it The Hunger Games. We totally believe you.
Imagine a world where you can produce as much content as you want and not have it censored by the administration. Keep imagining that world, because we can’t promise you that.
But what we can promise you is this beautiful space right here. Imagine a whole page, or a whole TWO pages, dedicated to actually funny humor. It will still be The Moon. The Moon can still publish its own magazine. Imagine a John Burroughs School without The Moon. Now stop crying, I’m not pushing for that either.
Imagine a universe where the world and the moon could work together. Together in orbit. A symbiotic relationship, like bees and flowers. Or the tiny fish that stick to whales’ bellies. Like those. Not saying that The World is the whale in that situation. Or maybe it is.
Imagine two equally valuable (although perhaps not equal in size) contributions to John Burroughs School producing prolifically and showcasing the creative merits of the student body.
Look at this frame. Look at all that empty space. Imagine that it’s yours. You can almost taste the publication success.
Godly Moon editors, we here at The World do sincerely hope you’ll at least consider our Modest Proposal.