By no means are these all the great things we’ve published, not at all. They’re mostly the ones that I know have stuck in my head, for whatever reason. I hope there are different pieces you’ve read in this magazine that you’ve loved. I hope you think my opinions are garbage. Make your own goddamn list.
A magazine is just the people who make it and I’ve had good people working on this magazine for very little to no pay for way too long. I’d like to thank: repeat interviewers Dylan Nice, Chris Duffy, and Alex Ronan. Section editors of past and present: Rachel Yoder, Brice Petersen, Joe Tiefenthaler, and Samuel Adler-Bell. Ray Sultan, who edited our ridiculous blog, The Wag (which only lasted a year. Turns out making content every day is hard.) and his intern Michael Light. Huge thanks to: Travis Smith and Matthew Clark, who’ve helmed the poetry and essays sections, respectively, for the last several years; Lincoln Thompson, who has basically run the entire project for the last few; and Rob Moor, who has long been this project’s bosom-friend (and did what is I think my favorite interview we’ve run, with John Jeremiah Sullivan). To the Wills: thank you, I love you, and I hope this rag ruins your careers somehow.
We’ve also published some very talented artists, all of whom contributed their beautiful and often disturbing artworks for free. Thank you to: Ana Teresa Barboza Gubo, Ryan Berkley, Sam Carr-Prindle, Michal Chelbin, Fabian Ciraolo, Brian Dettmer, Ben Frost, Jonathan Haeber, Markus Hartel, Ryan Enn Hughes, Sonny Kay, Daniela Kovacic, Tara Kelton, Jack Lovell, Dan Lydersen, Ben Riddlebarger, and Dimitri Tsykalov. And Google.
This final issue of Wag’s Revue took longer than I would have liked to come together — as they all have. I like it a lot more now than I feared I would — as I have every time. I’ve learned that things taking a little too long but ending up better is always good. That just because you could publish something doesn’t mean you have to. And it’s basically for that reason that it’s time for this to come to a close. I think we’ve done our thing.