Interlude: Good*bye*, 2016.

So. Here ends what has been, by all accounts, a pretty fucking miserable year.

Okay, let’s keep it real. A lot of beloved celebrities died but people die every year, this was a lot to do with unprecedented awareness and overblowing on social media, as well as steadily-mounting and cumulative morbid gallows-glee every time a new headline hit the Internet. But yes, it was absolutely sad. I usually put loving obituary notes on the blog for a well-known passing face, but this year there just seemed to be too many.

And of course politically we had a bad year. Brexit was followed by the glorious clusterfuck of democracy that was the U.S. Presidential election.

The bad guys won, and the good guys died. This is basically what happened in 2016.

Well, that, and my amazing daughters Wump and Toop grew a year older, and gave me almost constant laughs and wonder and moments of unseemly paternal pride. We’ve had a lot of fun and minimal heartache. Wump learned to read and write, and started going to school. Toop … okay, Toop didn’t learn not to shit in her pants yet, but that’s not a big deal. Over the past 12 months, Toop has stopped being a little baby and become a tiny person who calls herself a little baby in order to get out of doing things she doesn’t want to do. It’s been an amazing year for my family and I can’t overstate how happy I am to have been at Mrs. Hatboy’s side through it all.

That, and I finally got the push I needed from Lionbridge, forcing me to get out there and find a better job, with the Finnish-language challenge I sorely needed in order to continue my path to really belonging in this country I now call home. So far so good, Planmeca.

That, and I finished work on my first series of novels. The Final Fall of Man, checking in at 8 books and around 3,140 pages, is done and dusted. I’m not releasing Human until the first Friday the 13th of 2017, though, in an attempt to defeat the bad mojo of the year in which I actually finished the book.

That, and by lucky coincidence (and if I have calculated this right) you happen to be reading the 1,300th post on Hatboy’s Hatstand. A truly respectable, not to mention nice and round, number. That just so happens to also include the fateful number 13.

There’s been a lot of good times and they massively outweigh the sadness of this year.

Good times, good friends. I know I haven’t written a Chucky Report for the Damorak book release party yet. I’m sorry.

Still … still.

2016, I can’t say I’m going to be sorry to see you go.


Always time for one last pummeling, though.


About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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7 Responses to Interlude: Good*bye*, 2016.

  1. stchucky says:

    It’s interesting to note that statistically, more TV, movie and music stars did die this year compared to previous years. But the number has been climbing steadily for the past decade, because the number of celebrities has been climbing. We’ve reached a tipping point since the advent of television, movie production and MTV, where the number of stars skyrocketed. And now the early ones are getting old. And they all took a ton of drugs.

    2017 will not be better for this particular problem. So get used to the idea.

  2. dreameling says:

    Pretty much my sentiments exactly. (But, you know, replace your family with mine, and Planmeca with Frosmo. And minus the writing achievement. Plus some other details.)

    Anyhoo, fuck off, 2016.

    Toop has stopped being a little baby and become a tiny person who calls herself a little baby in order to get out of doing things she doesn’t want to do

    Ditto here. How come they get clever and duplicitous so fast?

  3. brknwntr says:

    Plus, Baby Boomers are all getting old. The massive population spike that followed WW2 is bound to be followed by a massive spike in Death an appropriate amount of time later.

  4. brknwntr says:

    And why am I hugging Mrs.Hatboy’s sister in that picture?

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