Don't Forget Poland

A love letter to you, the reader, from the new guy.

by Duane Swierczynski

Imagine this: you return home from work late one evening, and your landlord tells you, "Hey, remember your boyfriend/girlfriend? They're history. Instead, you'll be dating uh, this random person. There you go. Have fun. Why don't you two kiss, try it on for size?"

That's what it must be like for you, hearing you've got a new editor in chief helming your beloved City Paper.

You must be thinking: who is this guy? And how the hell am I supposed to pronounce his last name?

For starters, you can call me "Duane." Nobody can pronounce Swierczynski. Not even my parents. And if it makes you feel any better, we've already got a lot in common. You read the City Paper; I've been reading it for about 15 years. You live, work or play in the city; I'm a diehard city kid, born in Frankford, schooled in Olney, and now living in the Northeast. (Full disclosure: I once cheated on the city and lived in Brooklyn for two years. It was a messy relationship; we grew apart.)

Most importantly, you and I care deeply about this underdog town, even when it breaks our hearts.

This is why I think our relationship is going to work.

If you have a stake in this city—even if you're just passing through on your way to jury duty—I want the City Paper to be indispensable to you. Ideally, you'd no sooner pass up one of our orange boxes on a Thursday morning than you'd pass up brushing your teeth. (The remote mind-control devices we're installing in those orange boxes will help but for now, we'll have to focus on the content of the paper.) Lucky for me, I've inherited a wildly talented editorial staff—yeah, I'm looking at you, Hickey, Lori, B.H., Pat, Sam, Juliet, Mike, Doron, Helen, Adrienne, Carolyn—to help me do just that.

This column will be my opportunity to introduce you to the cool things in City Paper each week. Consider it the DVD Extra—not necessary for the enjoyment of the main product, but perhaps amusing anyway. I'll show you the behind-the-scenes stuff you wouldn't normally see. Point you to the bits of magic in the issue. And explain the moments that are … well, less than magical.

Of course, what's a relationship without communication? Do me a favor and tell me what you love and what you can't stand. Tell me how to make it more useful to you. Tell me what would make you strip and roll naked over the back issues. (On second thought, maybe you'd better save that last bit for "I Love You, I Hate You," page 111.) Write me at the e-mail address below or c/o City Paper, 123 Chestnut St., 3rd Floor, Philadelphia, Pa., 19106, Attention: New Guy.

Who knows? After a while, you may not even remember your old girlfriend/ boyfriend. Maybe someday, you'll even bring me home to meet your parents. Before long, we'll be spooning and picking out drapes. Just wait and see.

Even if you can't pronounce my last name.

This week, we're proud to present a survival guide to our next president—in other words, hangover medicine for the losing political party, edited by Brian "the Other B.H." Hickey. In the weeks leading up to Election Day, Hickey and his gang of writers actually prepared three separate cover packages. "When faced with an apocalyptic decision," says Hickey, "putting in a couple of extra hours in the office is the least we could do." Chances are, you're reading our "Dennis Kucinich Victory Survival Guide." (Just in case, Hickey cooked up guides for Bush and Kerry victories, too.) Enjoy, even if you're applying for your Canadian work visa.

E-mail Duane.

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