Ju-u-ust when we think we've reached new thresholds in iconoclasm,… just when we start getting deliciously arrogant,… and right about when we think we've finally earned the right to use appallingly dubious phrases such as "We'll have our people call your people", it never fails that our egos get promptly and mercilessly pulverized by the people we invite to be guest Diarists.

Let's just say this issue's Diarist did not think twice about playing us like a velvety masinko while they perfected the art of "tenetifachiu leminun". Well armed with urban literati guerilla tactics, they threw demand grenade after demand grenade at us until we waved our shemmas in defeat. (Abet giff! Abet giff! And ena hulet yelelew giff.)

But we would gladly do it again for the good of SELEDA, and because we have seriously complex issues of not taking rejection like healthy adults. But don't let's go there.

SELEDA is proud to bring you our diarist… both using pseudonyms and both fixated on geographical ambiguity: Makeda, an educational policy wonk living on the East Coast, has graciously agreed to go toe-to-toe with the shadowy Gelawdios…; the Artist Gelawdios, if you may. And after seriously upgrading our gubos, we managed to squeeze an extra entry out of them. (Ah… vivè a la teeny victories!)

(Do you feel our pain?)