It's been a long time coming for something like this, and I can't say the Trev is all too surprised or all too pleased to see it go down like this. Well, I guess it could be all for the best as I'm left to stew here in my own private intertubes, continuing to fight the good fight against whatever the hell it is I feel like fighting today. What can I say? I'm a very angry Trev, but I am also a loving and compassionate Trev. So with this, I tell my young apprentice to go forth and do whatever the heck his flights of fancy send him off to. It will all be over soon, I know The Kid. He'll be all committed and "yes, sir Mr. Alberts" for like a month and a half, next thing you know he's looking up how e can make moeny at home by raising endangered alpacas or some crazy shit like that. The internet will set him free, if he could only sack up and take the plunge.
So good riddance I say! I'll build my own college football blogosphere with blackjack! and hookers! Well, maybe not the blackjack. Anyway, this whole crazy thing is going to keep on keeping on whether you all like it or not, but I'll have to say that the Fire Mark May crusade will be taking on a different form, the next book in the Gospel of the Trev I guess. A corporate merger of sorts with plenty of goodwill from our FightinAmish friend over at that House Rock Built. I seem to be losing my loyal sidekick and stenographer while he goes off an tries his hand at a new "joint" in the Spike Lee/Spike Jonze sense of the word.
Godspeed, kid. I will hunt you down like the wild dog you are and kill you in your sleep, but I mean that in the most respectful way. You all haven't heard the last of the Trev. I swear a binding blood oath to myself to make you rue this day. On my self, I swear it.