You know what, if you’ve ever known anyone who died, ever, just stop reading, okay?

No, really, stop. I’m warning you.

Seriously. I’m not fucking around here. I know, I always fuck around, you’re waiting for the punch line. There’s no punch line. There’s a punch, yeah, straight to the gut, and like Houdini, you’re not ready for it this one time. I know I wasn’t.

December? Yeah, maybe Jesus got born, maybe, but everyone else fucking died. Fucking December. I think maybe a medically-induced coma is in order. Dramamine for the soul.

I thought it was done. But even in January, you remember December, people still talk about December. Because that’s the month where absolutely everyone gets fucked.

December, I will fucking kill you, as soon as I figure out how.