Final Countdown (You’re A Disappointment).

Well idiots, congratulations! As I’m sure you’ve no doubt heard by now, Synthesis is on its last legs. This means that we’ve now officially entered the final countdown. So listen up, ya bunch of dumb Doras, ol’ Huggins is blamin’ you for this. You know who you are, with your peepy gazers glued to your Twitter feeds and Instagraham crackers. You Twidiots are to blame for this horseshit. Why don’tcha try pickin’ up a goddamn book once in a while? What’s it like bein’ so empty-headed? I bet if I smacked you upside that ugly melon you call a face, I’d hear your tiny peabrain rattling around in there like a thumbtack in a tin can.

Worse than you non-reading dumb-dumbs are you in-the-closet folks. You’re the bane of my existence. I’ve had it up to my chin whiskers with you fakers. Maybe if you tried reading the damn newspaper (or reading anything, for that matter) in public rather than behind closed doors like some sort of Mrs. Grundy, we wouldn’t be be losing the only publication in town that’ll print ol’ Huggins’ golden opinions. And boy oh boy, have I got opinions to spare. So cozy up to this issue of Synthesis, because it’s number three in our final countdown, and I don’t even know how I’m going to manage to squeeze everything I need to tell you into these final weeks. Also, have I told you how terrible you look today? Is that collar even starched? Shame on you! Go apologize to the nearest adult.

Have you heard about this applesauce goin’ on over at the E! Network? First of all, why in Sam Hill is the exclamation point necessary? Why are they so excited about the letter who anyone decent agrees is the absolute worst vowel?! You already know what Huggins is gonna say. Pipe down, E! There’s no reason to shout! You’re embarrassing yourself. In any case, it would seem that something those knuckleheads are excited about (besides that layabout vowel), is racism. Wouldn’t ya know it, but the tall, shrill one with the teeth managed to incite a riot by letting some of those horribly waspy thoughts past her thinker and out her word hole. Specifically she chose to pick on a young woman for her hairstyle, which gave me the Heebie Jeebies… The needlin’ I mean, not the hair. The hair was lovely. The snipin’ deb with the teeth and the microphone was not. This new trend in tearing others down is something you kids have just got to stop doing. At the very least you gotta stop doin’ it until you reach a respectable age. Like me? I’m well past the acceptable age to become curmudgeonly. Every time I indulge in a little truth-tellin’, it’s like slipping into a warm bath. You know, I’m definitely going to miss these ol’ bull sessions we have. But not too much. Now get off my porch. Henry’s dogs are barkin’ and I need to get these puppies into that footbath my second least favorite son got me for Chanukkah. Shalom, dummies.