Richard Chang
Rich promised us he wouldn't become one of the Chelsea lady boys when he took off to live in the Big Apple. He swore up and down that he'd stay away from the Naked Cowboy strumming his guitar in Times Square. He whipped two fingers up and recited the Boy Scout motto when we asked him whether or not he planned on sipping Chai tea, candy-cane mochas, or saying, "one piping hot cocoa, please" in a Greenwich Village cafe. But we knew the jig was up when our East Coast spy revealed this: a rainbow sticker, three windows down on the left-hand building. Mr. Chang, care to explain?
Jeff Ludes
Reflecting upon his gig as a regular Super Street freelancer, Jeff turned to illustrational drawing in order to fill the gaping void within. His first piece, entitled Life at $4 a Paycheck, cuts deep into the world of the freelance writer, revealing previously untold, or simply ignored, secrets of the risqu trade. Self-inflicted injuries, gaunt facial expression, the wearing of bows-all the colorful indications of eking out a living from penny to penny are painstakingly mapped out via dry-erase marker, ready to be admired by museum curators and Lisa Simpsons alike. Congratulations, Jeff.
Tetsuya Ogushi
When we first met Tetsuya, aka our Guide to All Things Tokyo, he was sprawled out on an airport bench, foaming at the mouth. A sign taped to the back of his head spelled our magazine's title out in beautiful Japanese calligraphy, but we had no idea what Super Street looked like in character form. We were just tipped off by all the Pocari Sweat bottles strewn about his limp body, an image that Nads instantly honed in on and proclaimed to be, in his own words, "beautiful and godlike." After jostling him awake, he blinked for a moment, sat up straight, and then led us to a karaoke bar full of Tein race queens. From then on, we knew that without a doubt, Tetsuya would be our Number One man in Japan.
Jairo Aleman
We were starting to worry that all the women across the country may have just vanished in late 2002. We used to receive so many photos in the mail of cute girls draped over searing hot carbon-fiber hoods, but then, like our imaginary love lives with them, it all came to a sudden, threatening end. Saddened, we tried to take it in stride, but our tear-stained faces made constant liars out of our smiles. Then, lo and behold, we found Jairo digging through our newest shipment, pocketing female photos while leaving all the man shots behind for us to burn. Embarrassed by our slipshod sleuth work, he now allows us to have a look-see. But at $8 per snap, we're going broke real fast.