The Grand Finale…

The Grand Finale…

This is it. It was nice knowing you, my loyal, fantastic viewers. Goodbye…


Did you honestly believe you were going to get off the hook that easily?

Oh, no, no, no.

This was merely an instrument. A stepping stone to a much larger… Stepping stone.

It has all led to this… And this time, you will not… Okay, you’re interfering. I give up.

It’s been a wondrous writing career for me here with the The U Post and as I look back, I can’t see myself as anything more than a mere guest lucky to be noticed and luckier to be honored by your attention – it isn’t the fact that I’m writing for a newspaper that has kept me back, or the feeling that I’m doing something productive as I flap my fingers across this venerable keyboard, as my thoughts manifest for your enjoyment, assuming there is some to be had.

What kept me coming back to writing was the feeling that I could maybe- just maybe change how you thought a little, or that I could teach you something new through means you could really connect with, or that, best of all, I might just brighten your day a little.

I’ve been coming back for you, my readers, because I can say quite objectively that you are awesome and also quite cool and you aren’t afraid of anything. You’re the kind of people that would star in one of these popular new documentaries about famous people and how we should worship them, like the one about Steve Jobs or that one guy that disservice us by making Facebook.

Erm… Yeah, that’s supposed to be a compliment, but I think I dropped the ball.

Would it be better if I said you’re the kind of readers that would make good Disney protagonists? I mean, that means you get to fall in love and you’re generally right, and… Your Mother is dead…

Uh, I’d like to move on, if that’s okay with you guys.

So, uhm, I’d just like to summarize what I just said by saying that you are the best. Like, not “the best” like your sibling of choice might say you are after you get them their car keys that they’ve now forgotten for the seventh time, but THE best, for real, not just seeming legit but BEING legit, I give you ALL a standing ovation. Pass go and collect $200, you’ve earned it.

What I mean to say is, you’re more than I could have ever asked for as a writer and I genuinely appreciate your unwavering support through all my inconsistencies. I really do.

So, about that objective to brighten your day. To that end, I have prepared a ‘Grand’ finale.

Well, not so sure about the ‘Grand’ in my finale, but… Hey, it’s the best I can do. I have a budget.

If you hadn’t caught on, I didn’t really think this through. So I’m going to throw Zefrank1 at you, as I have been told by a few noble souls that it is effective at distracting the reader from– Anyway…

Octo…Octopu…Octopi are cool, and I just thought you should know that in words far more eloquent than mine, in exquisite terms you can understand. Also, it’s because when the Jellyfish take us over, these guys are going to be their closest allies by virtue of how smart and yet freaky they are. I recommend taking your local octopus out to dinner and getting him a nice gift card to a gas station or something, that should set you up to be fairly well-accounted for once their regime is set up. Might even score you a few extra ration cards or an extra lamp for your holding cell as furnishings.

Now, want to know what else makes this finale grand? Yes, I’ve stopped capitalizing the G in grand, I’m about as consistent as a chameleon on LSD, I get it. Not that I know what that’d look like. It might be sad to watch, or it might just be interesting in a I-am-watching-you-while-you-do-hallucinogenic-drugs way, from an observer’s standpoint. I digress:

Not one, not two, not five, but THREE frivolous science facts you DON’T need to know!

Well, if you don’t count the video, that is. Don’t count it, please, I get so excited when my thoughts are spoken in the voice of David Letterman and if you decide to be a spoilsport on my last post I might be deeply offended. Oprah would be cool too, but I don’t have any cars to give you or a briefcase of bees, so that leaves that approach to thinking disarmed.

1. Darkness is not nothing! Nothing is nothing, and blind people see nothing, not darkness!

2. Starfish have eyes! Eight of them, more specifically, on each leg.

3. My dog has bitten my fingers over 100 times. He never gets the idea as the Drake-cells in my fingers emit a protoplasmic aura that activates the predation-complex of his higher neural functions, resulting in an irresistible urge to chase down and bite me.

…I don’t know what I just said, but it sounds vaguely like a fact, so that’s where it’s going.

Finally if not quite grandly, I’d like to reflect.

Every step of my educational career at UHS has been an achievement. I came here with an expectation of being denied for lacking credentials, but I made it in, which you might be having mixed feelings about right now as I descend into another of my rants.

I’m not talking about academia, either. You were probably there for that speech and you’ll probably get really bored if I type something like that here. So I won’t. Because I care.

I’m talking about all the experiences this school has given me, the feeling of being accepted not just as the Joker(not the Agent of Chaos), quiet guy, as the shameless computer addict or Solid Drake Boxman, but as a person regardless of what stupid opinions I voiced freshman year, the teachers that cared almost as much as I do when I think you’ll get bored, that listened to me when I had trouble and sought to better me when I didn’t, what mistakes I made socially, what choices I made in how I decided to guide myself. I was accepted regardless of the path I chose to take and as a result, I’ve felt myself becoming more accepting of others even outside of school.

This school has changed me.

I grew into who I am at this place, and…

I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss you.

It was an honor to write for you and a joy to entertain you. Assuming I did, of course, but…

This is Drake Jellison…

Signing off.

Godspeed, you magnanimous souls.

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