NAKED EYE: The way we *hic* were
eye WEEKLY
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eye WEEKLY October 10, 1996
Toronto's arts newspaper .....free every Thursday
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NAKED EYE NAKED EYE
THE WAY WE *HIC* WERE
by
WILLIAM BURRILL
The year: 2091.
The day: Oct. 10.
The place: A foul-smelling room in an old age home in a sleepy suburb
of Brampton called "Toronto."
The "man": William Burrill, who at 136 is the oldest surviving
founding member of the multi-billion dollar magazine eye.
The mission: To interview Mr. Burrill on this, the 100th anniversary
of the galaxy's leading virtual periodical. Fasten your seatbelts,
ladies and gentlemen. You are about to enter The Burrillian Vortex.
* * *
INTERVIEWER: Take us back to October, 1991 when you began as managing
editor of eye. Did you have any idea that so many of the founding
writers and editors would go on to become the most famous literary
figures of our or any other time?
WILLIAM BURRILL: Nah. We just hired them 'cause they worked cheap.
INT: Does it sadden you that all the old gang are now dead?
WB: They were stiff and face down most of the time they were alive.
Didn't smell that great either. They don't look much different now.
INT: To what do you attribute your longevity?
WB: (Hork, wheeze, glug, glug, GACK) I was smart enough to stay
permanently pickled. Doctor scared the hell outta me the other day.
Said he found some blood in my alcohol stream.
INT: Tell us about the great editor Bill Reynolds. Do you have any
idea how he ended up in your freezer in a cannibalized state in 2069?
WB: I... guess he got hungry. There's not much to do when you're
locked in a freezer but gnaw off your limbs.
INT: But how did he get locked IN there? The key was on the outside.
WB: I... next fuckin' question.
INT: Give us your theory on how the famed writer Donna Lypchuk
spontaneously combusted and turned into a pile of ashes in 2078.
WB: She got out of bed and went outside during the daylight hours. I
warned her never to do that. Donna never listened. It was sad. But we
saved a few bucks on cremation costs.
INT: And of course you knew the Pulitzer Prize winning author Jane
Anderson.
WB: Knew her? Why I knew Jane when she was a man. Well, you know, sort
of a girlie-boy, but definitely a man. Called herself Jason in those
days.
INT: And you were godfather to the first child after Jane married
novelist C.J. O'Connor.
WB: Yeah. What an ugly little brat. He went the same way as his old
man. Died of frostbite. In Jamaica. They were both too cool for their
own good.
INT: I guess you count yourself lucky that you weren't in the office
the day production editor Deanna Dunn snapped and went berserk with
the M-16...
WB: I WAS in the office. I was sleeping one off under the desk. She
damn near woke me up.
INT: Do you think graphic artist Reed Forster...
WB: I'm not sure if Reed forced her. But I'm sure he encouraged
Deanna.
INT: Do you blame yourself for the massive coronary suffered by news
editor Greg Boyd in 2054?
WB: Well... yeah... I guess it was too much of a shock.
INT: What exactly did you DO?
WB: I handed in my column on time.
INT: And you knew theatre editor Chris Winsor before he quit
journalism and replaced Donny Osmond in Joseph & The Amazing
Technicolor Raincoat...
WB: Yup. He was great in Cats too, until he choked to death on that
massive furball. I said: "Chris, why do you insist on licking your
balls?"
INT: What did he respond?
WB: "Because I can!" It was the end of him, the dang fool.
INT: What was it like working with associate editor Marlene Arpe.
WB: Hard worker. Couldn't spell for shit. Couldn't even spell her own
first name. Marlene used to sign her stories "Malene." But things
worked out OK. She quit and married former Blue Jays manager Jimy
William. He couldn't spell his own name, either. They had a daughter
named Gnatalie named for our former promo person. Sad case. Gangrene
of the nose from those rings and that bone...
INT: You also knew writer Marc Weisblott. Did you really --
WB: HEY! Watch it. The jury acquitted me. Justifiable homicide.
INT: But you WERE convicted in the matter of founding editor Steve
Jarrett...
WB: I didn't DO it. I was nowhere near Hamilton harbor that day. I
don't even know how to mix cement. Besides I served my time for that.
It was a bum rap. I liked the guy. Although he was heavy as hell with
those cement boots.
INT: What was jail like?
WB: Oh, not so bad. I was in the same cell block as Deanna and the art
and production department guys Kevan, Darren, Steve, Gordon and Lisa.
INT: What were they in for?
WB: Counterfeiting hundred-dollar bills. I TOLD Kev not to put Mr.
Spock's face on the C-notes, but he said nobody knew what Robert
Borden looked like. But the pointy ears tipped off the feds...
INT: You were known as one of the few editorial staff members who
socialized with the eye ad sales reps.
WB: Oh, yeah. We had some wild parties. I remember ONE binge about 50
years ago that lasted nine straight days.
INT: What was the celebration for?
WB: Someone sold an ad.
BURRILLAPALOOZA UPDATE
Thanks to William New and everyone else who took part in last week's
Burrillapalooza benefit at the El Mocambo last week. It was great fun
and we also raised $530 for battered women's shelters. We'll figure
out how to split up the proceeds once we sober up.
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