From the Editor's Desk (rip.......)

If you're reading this, it means I'm dead. I was going for the ultimate Bad Boy stunt. Jumping a motorcycle off the largest crater on the moon (The South Pole-Aitken Basin) through the middle of the International Space Station, doing 12,000 front flips, breaching earth's atmosphere at speeds of up to 35,280 miles per hour, bouncing off the wing of a 747 and landing on the back of a school bus barreling down the Pacific Coast Highway.

I wrote this letter on the off chance that I was unsuccessful. I know what you're thinking. Bad Boy Editor, how can we adjust to life without you?

Dear reader, I am asking you to trust. Trust in your new editors. Trust in our seasoned writers. Trust that the laughter, unlike my career as a world renowned daredevil, is far from over. It has been an honor to serve as editor of this publication, but the time has come. The time has come for us all to move on.

Bad Boy Editor signing off