EDITOR"S NOTE - Your Editor is grumpier than usual this week by reason of being forced to scratch up his own information instead of having it neatly (if not always accurately) handed to him by the socalled columnists to whom he pays top dollar for their bottom-drawer drivel, arrant speculation, ribald inanities and outright lies. However, as the recent bottom-of-the-barrel substitutes of the last few weeks have taken to snapping and baying at everyone who enters the office and to wheedling the locksmith in the adjacent office for a key to the leg irons which keep them at their station on the loveseat, and who have, as a consequence of their apparent unhappiness at their current station in life, ceased, desisted, stopped and halted their writing, your Editor spent several profitless days digging up information on the whereabouts of the numbskulls, nitwits and ne'erdo wells who formerly inhabited this space instead of doing what he really preferred - writing timely, well-reasoned, thoughtful, brilliantly stinging editorials on Matters of Topical Interest. However, an Editor's life is not a happy one, the bitter must be tasted along with the sweet, and duty must be done, so herewith is the most current information available on Previous Columnists.

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Lumpkin Golliwoggle (who never actually penned a single word for this newspaper): Still suffering from the collywobbles, megrims and phantom pain in his left hind leg and resting at home, much to the dismay of his formidable spouse, who has tried everything from cheap elixirs to fizzy bromides to brown rice and okra to threats and coercion without success to raise Mister Golliwoggle from the near-dead and get him back into the ranks of wage-earning columnists.

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Lucius Q.C. Lamar Bimbleburger: In the company of most of the Whig 19 Minus Two, Mister Bimbleburger is said to be making his way slowly northeastward from the site of their former incarceration in Kentucky, a process made difficult by their slender finances and complete lack of a sense of direction. Having reached the southeastern corner of Pennsylvania, they inexplicably turned northwest and were last seen dipping their toes in the waters of Lake Erie. At this rate of progress, they may not make landfall on the Banks of the Dog until the feast day of St. Carthagh the Younger (not to be confused with Carnac the Magnificent). Although they continue to send pitiful pleas for money by carrier pigeon, it appears that few in town are anxious to see their shining faces again. Her Municipal Excellency the Town Clerk, for example, has waxed warmly on the subject of what she would do to those disrupters-ofelections should they ever darken her doorstop again.

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Wootton Bassett Poughkeepsie: Last heard from on March 4; last seen at the Mechanical Arts & Pseudo-Scientific Religions Desk of the Southwest Northeast Braintree & Vicinity Sheep-Shearer's Gazette & Monthly Advertiser, where he has been writing jaunty columns on the State of the Lesser Arts and Trash Sports of the Idle Rich and Infamously Unimportant.

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Miss Lorelei Popover: As reported on July 9, Miss Popover suffered grievous injuries when her velocipede collided with three nuns, two gallons of rum and a costermonger. The skilled surgeons at the Lying-in Hospital for Debilitated Columnists were successful in reattaching her severed left leg, although, in their haste, they put it on backwards, which has left Miss Popover with a quite pronounced limp and an extremely peculiar mode of motive power. Numerous lawsuits are pending, and her attorney, Lawyer Threestix, has proclaimed that Justice Will Be Done.

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Miss Dysflexia Pamplemousse: The most recent of the Disappeared Columnists wrote her last column on the 13th of August, shortly prior to being kidnapped by the Goldfish Liberation League. It appears that Miss Pamplemousse has found their company congenial, for she has resisted all attempts to liberate her. The latest, essayed by Third Constable Waffleblaster, Fire Chief (and Deputy Seventh Class) Nylon and the entire freshman class of the Dog River Academy for Wayward Boys, came to naught when their attack on the hideout was repelled by water cannons filled with essence of Mustelidae. As the rescuers fled in odoriferous panic, Miss Pamplemousse was seen dancing on the parapet and shouting, "Death to the vile oppressors of fishlife everywhere!" Taking this as his cue, the Third Constable has decreed that there shall be no further attempts to free Miss Pamplemousse from her captors. As for the DRAforWB freshmen, they have been confined to tents on the parade ground and forbidden to enter any building on campus until such time as their fragrance abates.