Attila

A MOB OF about 15 printing company owners swept in, unimpeded, whilst I was taking a short nap. I had worked 21 hours (my typical work day) without eating or sleeping, and was only dozing for a few hours. They moved with swift execution. Obviously, they were well-prepared.

They looked professional in their matching black stocking caps, camouflage fatigues and glistening new combat boots. They had corporate sponsorship and wore patches advertising their benefactor’s logo.

Horribly, my spouse, Attila the Nun, was an accomplice to this vicious conspiracy. She was in on the planning and, in fact, served as a lookout who stood the door while

FAR BE it for me to categorize people. I’m not one of those pompous jerks that tosses people in baskets shouting out, “Here comes another loser.” “I’m tossing this pervert in the weirdo box.” “Look out you introverts, I’ve found another nerd and I’m droppin’ him in your box.” “Happy days you holy rollers, I’ve found another snake dancin’ poison drinkin’ convert to toss in your barrel!” I’m not one to stereotype people. No sireee! Laying the Ground Work Everyone is different, physically and mentally. We are supposed to appreciate the individual beauty of each person. There are millions and

In late May of this year, just a month before my 63rd birthday, I realized that I had denied myself the luxury of a mid-life crisis. A lot of my friends and business associates had some sort of mid-life crisis. Their stories of a fast break from the routine boredom of their ho-hum lives sounded exciting and fun. My opportunities for some mid-life fun just passed me by. I was always too busy doing a deal, writing a column, making a speech or trying to keep up with my 30 ballplayers—cleaning the men's and women's port-a-potties and making sure we had enough game balls

Valentine's Day just passed. I'm a hopeless romantic and I went a little nuts with gifts for all the women in my life; one wife, three daughters and four granddaughters. Some people have said that I'm a "man's man." But, I'm confessin' that as I grow older, I'm getting more and more in touch with what some experts refer to as my "feminine side." It's got something to do with men's testosterone leaking out or evaporating or something. Whew! I'm glad to get that little tidbit off my chest. I have to be careful with the rest of this so as not to be

Well, now I know I've made it: Starting with this issue, Attila the Editor has granted me Columnist Status. That way I get a page—or less—to rant and rave about topics of interest to prepress professionals every month. So what if it ticks off the key advertisers . . . Having recently attended the Seybold Conference in Boston—thankfully the show has been moved out of New York—I would like to muse about those behemoths of our industry, Adobe and Quark, and what might happen to those of us that rely on their software to earn our daily bread. Thanks to the "keynote addresses" granted to John