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“Here’s to the lion,” he said. ‘I can’t ever thank you for what you did.”
Margaret, his wife, looked away from him and back to Wilson.
“Let’s not talk about the lion,” she said

We have a lot of letterpresses. Also we have a lot letterpress printers and a lot of platemakers too. Actually not a lot, “a lot” is the wrong word implying excess, we have just the right amount. In truth, we have been doing this (i.e. letterpress, platemaking, et. al.) for a long time, but we are not jaded yet. We are the opposite of jaded in fact: obsessed? die-hard? tattooed? Everyday we wake up in the morning under the Syracuse cloud-cover and we want to letterpress on our letterpress machines, and make printing plates on our platemaking machines, and we print well and good. What do we want to print? Green letterpress poetry. Neon letterpress business cards. Gold foil calendars. Collateral. Small horses. Anything. Sea turtles too. To be honest, we wish we were made out of cast iron. We wish we were letterpresses. Are we getting too personal here? We wish we could print on ourselves. But we can’t (or, at least according to OSHA, we should not). Also, we are trying not to ruin the planet any more than it is ruined.