Added image of not adding an image: Twenty years gone in the blog-o-sphere but I'm a bit unreliable and have lost count of the count. Rich fruitcake all round and mock cocktails for everybody attending the imaginary party. It's the end of something but the beginning of something else marked with an invisible join that allows you to ignore the progress or make any distinction between present and past. I have no direction except to move on beyond December now. Should be simple enough.
Reviews of the year and top twenty lists are tedious. I don't really want reminded about all the poor taste and dumbfuckery of 2024. Then there's the removal of key events that might be a little too awkward for the predicted audience or that simply don't fit the mood or the populist narrative. Next year will be very similar no doubt, apart from an outwardly benign but inwardly malevolent AI surge across all systems and media. I'll be 70 and so will remain proudly surplus to requirements and just a little out of touch. There may be blood unfortunately.
Apart from that I've really nothing to say.
You remain not surplus to requirements in my world Johnny boy - Happy New Year!
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