And with that, the New Tens are over. If you're reading this by now, you've somehow survived. A whole decade, three thousand six hundred and fifty days or thereabouts. Seems like a damned miracle when you put it that way. 2020, eh? How hi-tech-sounding. We're properly in Futurama times now. I'll be going into the dawn of the next exciting chapter of human history with what I'm sincerely praying to God is just a cyst, and this, my annual depressing introspective journal.
Happy New Year, everyone. How was 2019? I can't remember. I don't think it was as bad for the world as the years preceding it. It seems we've been afforded a reprieve. Whatev