Letter From the Editor: I’m a Vibe? What Do You Mean Angel

Hey Angel! Didn't see you there. I am sipping a black coffee adjacent to the Crows backyard because I am working on lowering my clout. My clout got too high! That happens sometimes. Hoes mad! 

Today I got the Wordle in two tries. This was due not to luck but to sheer brilliance and prophecy. Anyways, I noticed you called me a "vibe." Angel, sweetie, I don't know the fuck that means! How could I be a vibe when there are only about six concrete things that are true about me? I can seamlessly teach algebra one concepts to tenth graders; if you ask me what my GPA is, I will certainly tell you; I don't know how to connect to AirPennNet and never will; one of my thumbs is about half an inch shorter than the other; I care about justice (not too much, but more than you would think); and everyday I text anywhere from 25-40 people before 1 P.M. 

So before you go around painting me in broad strokes, remember that just the other day I bought 55 American dollars worth of yarn from a lesbian woman named Donna and then I asked her if she was Jewish and she said half. So fuck you Angel.