Greetings and salutations. You've successfully arrived at the bloody disgusting network.

The passage of time will now bring you to something strange, unique, and idiosyncratic.

Have a good time.

Shh!

Listen to this. This is the tape I found downstairs.

It has been a number of years since I began excavating the ruins of Kandar with a group of my colleagues.

Now my wife and I have retreated to a small cabin in the solitude of these mountains.

I believe I have made a significant find in the Kandarian

ruins, a volume of ancient Sumerian burial practices and funerary

and cantations. It is entitled Nachir de Monte Monte, roughly translated Book of the Dead.

From the NARled Woods of Michigan, To the Sun Kiss skyline of LA.

We are Halloween.

You said I hope you understand when you read this letter that you're better off without me.

Cuz around me is stormy weather.

Stormy weather.

Stormy weather, always surrounds me.

What would be said in New Year rhymes that's not been said a thousand times.

The New Year's come, the old years go.

We know we dream, we dream, we know.

We rise up laughing with the light, we lie down weeping with the night. We hug the world

until it stings. We curse it then and sigh for wings. We live, we love, we woo, we wed, we wreath our bodies, brides, we cheat are dead.

We laugh, we weep, we hope we fear, and that's the burden of the year.

...