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.