Saturday, January 1, 2011

Numbers' New Year Newsletter

[Other years' letters: 2011 / 2012 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021 ]

As I sit down to nonchalantly compose this letter from my bulletproof glass penthouse overlooking the city of my birth, a city now in my pocket, I cannot help but mentally prod the events of the past year which have brought me here. I tell my eighty-five pierce orchestra, sitting before me of course, to play some heroic mood music so I may feel that I have won this round. Not that I couldn't feel this way without the music, but it helps.

2010 has come and gone and I have already disposed of my old calendars: physical, digital, ethereal, and otherwise. Haven't you? I must say that the events of this past year were quite unexpected. To think that I could have turned selling matches to schoolchildren into a lucrative business and eventually into the international empire which The Game-Set Match Co. is today is borderline mind-blowing, if I do say so myself. For those who have assisted me, your royalty cheques are in the mail. I thank you for your contributions and your time.

The last year began much like any other: snow, paperwork, being harassed by crazy hockey fans, etc. It is Canada, after all. Boredom with academia, campus security, and the educational machine in general (a system I imagine as a titanic malevolent mechanoid which I have dubbed "Academecha"), I began peddling matches to young children, at first for humour. (The increased arsonists' activity in the area is purely coincidental.) I found this to be a profitable enterprise, as modern children, for some reason, seem to have more disposable income than pensioners (who, unfortunately, have their own matchstick suppliers).

I grudgingly paid what little attention I could during two weeks in February as the world put on a smiley face and masturbated in Vancouver. (In case anyone is curious, the Olympic rings are a metaphor for circlejerking.)

As the global economy went to the shitter, I banked on the one unchanging staple, a constant factor in a fluctuating equation: matches. People need them. I have them. 'Nuff said. The summer months were a period of expansion for my business. Employees were hired, warehouses were purchased, and profits rose. The world came together for a while to be trolled by an octopus. I wanted to bring my vision of a lit match between the fingers of every child to the four corners of the world and began thinking outside the borders.

But my good fortune came with a heavy price. My pet, sidekick, an co-owner took his last breath, leaving me in despair and solitude. Farewell, my fluffy friend... The time machine I had ordered off Yahoo Japan Auctions hit 88mph and to cheer myself up, I flew back to sometime in the '80s and attended a Rick Springfield concert. I should have went to a screening of The Empire Strikes Back while I was there. Ah well, next time. But while the matchstick empire expanded, I felt an overwhelming hollow. Something was missing. Or rather, someone was missing.

The most important event of 2010 for me was undoubtedly my reunion with someone very dear to me, someone I've cared about for years but was unable to tell how I felt. If you're reading this, Dominique, I just want to let you know that I love you, that I didn't stop thinking of you during our radio silence, and to assure you that I am not actually completely insane. You are the best part of my 2010. I'll just wrap up my silly matches story now.

With the profits from the South American plant, I intend to finish the Super-Soldier Armour project so that I may begin the Space Program in fourth quarter 2011. Truly, it shall be a glorious year. Oh yes, we reached A25U #100, the Archive got deleted, and the Cobra Commander is free once more. I wish you all health, happiness, and all the other good stuff in 2011. Let's see what happens.

Stay frosty,
Elite Indestructible Superhero Ninja

[Other years' letters: 2011 / 2012 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021 ]

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