When in the course of events it becomes necessary to cast a cold eye on the state of the common herd and instead post laudits for the simply singular, the fantastic and the more-than-human, we of certain demeanors thirst for good guidance and example. Many is the long night I have spent with Shakespeare and Dante, with Kirkegaard, with Plato and Aristotle, with Kant and Hegel, with Sartre and Camus, with Locke and Hume, with Nietzsche, with Bishop Berkeley, or devouring the esoteric texts of Giordano Bruno, Doctor Dee, Hermes Trismegistus, and Madame Blavatsky, the magickal musings of Crowley and the Golden Dawn, or the political utopias of Hobbes, Hitler and Mussolini. In all of these I suppose there is some value, but at best they offer only hidden hints of what you and I know to be our inevitable fateful fiefdom, wherein the incredible, the amazing and the mighty, the astonishing and strange are to rule and the forgettable filth of flesh eke out their negligible nights in the negative zone. Only in your magazine can I see clearly the elemental ideas and scientific scheme for the rapid replacement of mere mortality. As my duties frequently bring me into the heart of Babylon I shall take the earliest opportunity to make my presence known at your Bullpen and at that time we will sit together and outline the fantastic future in a manner Signors Marinetti and D’Annunzio could only dream of. Lee and Kirby, duos cosmicos reges! Until that fateful day, and stretching ever on galactically, Make Mine Marvel!