Contact

Electronic Mail: hollaback@misprintmagazine.com

Mail Drop: Misprint Magazine, c/o The Side Bar, Austin, TX

Ok, listen up kids:

You can and should send us your new records, tapes, CDs, flash drives, amateur pornos, books, comics, experimental novellas, pipe bombs, Dinosaur Jr. fanzines from 1996, recipes for carnitas and adorable hand-made hats. The thing is, we lost all our dough in a Red River ponzi scheme (I went all in on Room 710! I thought I couldn’t lose).  So between my alcohol budget and my narwhal-horn dick pills, splurging for a PO box was starting to sound like a bad deal, especially when the only thing that we got that was actually worth listening to was that Cavedweller CD we got back in 2006. So now, drop that shit off at The Side Bar. For reals. If you buy the bartender a shot, there’s a good chance we will actually get it.

If you think we suck or you think your Spoon-lite Austin boy band got a bad rap, let us know. After all, we are Misprint Magazine, and we have been known to make mistakes. This is especially true since our staff of “fact checkers” is actually just one dude who sits around South Austin in a baja doing whippits and watching Ghostbusters II on TBS all fucking day.  So if it turns out that we didn’t have all our facts straight when we reported that your sweet metal club was getting replaced with fancy sailor cabana bar or you think our grammar sucks, drop us a line or just talk shit about us on your dumb blog. We can fucking take it.

If you want to write/draw/promote/distribute/etc. for Misprint, let us know. Just remember that despite this glamorous world of making non-stop dick/beard/squid jokes and fantastic ‘scene’ credibility, working for Misprint really just brings you a host of non-intimidating enemies from mid-level local bands and a hollow, forlorn sense of despair. Honestly, working for Misprint is probably even worse than that soul-sucking gig making sandwiches at Delaware Subs, and at least there you’re getting high and getting paid. But if you think you’ve got some writing/design chops that never really got to shine at your community college literary magazine (or you’re a nubile teenager with access to a shit ton of prescription drugs), hit us up. Maybe we can get drunk and ignore rock bands together.