Looks like you never got to take a whiff of that present we left in the office for you, as reward for your need to constantly piss on our work and generally make our lives a living hell. Fed up with how you weren't getting your way, you helped fire and alienate most of us with talent, to give way to your mostly untalented and unfunny editorial staff of the next year. So when it came time to clean out our desks, it was basically the Clinton White House prepping for the Bush takeover--we took most of the good stuff, and left most of the trash. I don't know which of us thought up the idea leaving behind a raw rockfish to decompose over an entire summer, but damn if we all didn't nearly shit our pants when we got it fresh from the market for its final resting place. My heart goes out to the unfortunate custodian who caught the scent (before things could get really smelly by fall) and felt it his duty to clean up the mess. It was a mess entirely meant for you.

--Anonymous