Goodbye

Dear good sirs and madams,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have one purpose, and one purpose only, for this message you’re reading. To say goodbye.

You’ve been some of the internet’s most loyal readers over the past few months – the website consistently gets between 0 and 3 views per day despite only one new blog post since JC’s most recent birthday on December 25th – and for that I can never thank you enough. Together we’ve formed a behemoth online intellectual community that rivals anything previously seen in our history.

We’re an unbreakable wall – perhaps the most unbreakable wall of all time. But as Joe Nichols once sang so beautifully….unbreakable walls….break.

When I moved out to Colorado in December I made it very clear that I was willing to risk my life flying down a mountain on a pair of skis or a snowboard at reckless speeds – upwards of 65 or 70 mph, heck, maybe even 80 if I was feeling particularly dangerous on a given day.

I believed that my fate was already predetermined – I would ride the mountain to my death. The missiles were locked and loaded and the override button was nowhere to be found, and I accepted this fate wholeheartedly.

But ignorant me didn’t stop to think for a single second that perhaps my fate hadn’t accepted me the same way that I accepted it. Over the past couple days I learned that Mr. Fate has some standards and requirements, and much like my application process with Marquette University, I didn’t meet said standards and requirements.

But as I sit here eating my Last Supper of enchiladas suizas de pollo from the Mexican place down the road, it’s abundantly clear that Mr. Fate has made his final verdict.

In a plot twist not seen since the likes of the Stone Age, I will not be riding the mountain to my death.

No, you see, it turns out the mountain will be riding me to my death.

We’re about to witness the real life natural disaster that the Day After Tomorrow was based on.

It starts with tornadoes…lots of them.

And then we get snow. All of it. All of the snow. Don’t believe me? Here’s a graphic for you.

That’s all of the snow that’s supposed to fall from early Saturday morning through Sunday night. There are parts of this state that are supposed to get six feet of snow in only a 36 hour stretch.

I obviously will not be surviving this. Not a chance in the world. This ends with only one conclusion…me being swallowed whole by an avalanche that will eventually devour the entire central United States.

Colorado? Hasta la vista baby.

Nebraska? Sayonara.

Kansas? Ciao.

You know how in the Day After Tomorrow there’s that scene where Dennis Quaid draws a line down the middle of the United States and says everyone south should evacuate? And then he explains it’s already far too late for everyone north of that line? Well guess what pal…I’m about 17 light-years too far north.

As I sit here taking my last bites of Mexican bliss, I’d be foolish not to thank my family and friends for always being there for me. You’re not here to save me now when I need you the most, but it’s okay, nobody bats 1.000. My blood is probably on your hands, but I’m sure it will wash off after a couple days.

To anyone still reading this, I ask that you please carry the weight of my legacy on your shoulders at all times. Don’t let everything I’ve done go to waste.

Goodbye.