To Whom it May Concern,
Mr. Bessman was found in the early AM of Sunday, February 19, dead in
his basement, with a folded up and buttered frisbee lodged in his
throat. He etched his suicide note into his back with a steak knife
(don't question it), explaining that a 40 hour work week and a 16 credit
load at college had left effectively no time for hacking in the past
seven months. Feeling disgusted with himself, he decided to end things
the honorable way.
As a parting gift, he uploaded a work-in-progress track to
http://gazuga.net/stuph/caves.ogg. Little explanation is offered as to
the nature and origins of this track, but that the deceased was found
wearing a "SEGA does what Nintendon't" t-shirt may give us a clue into
the mystery of this tune. Considering that the deceased's bloodstream
was coursing with methandrostenalone, it is likely that this song came
about during a brief fit of rage --- but being a complete and hopeless
nerd, this was expressed with dorky bitpop, as opposed to wanton
violence and destruction.
Relatives believe the track was composed entirely by the deceased, with
percussion and synth provided by Specimen --- the project which, by
having gone so long sans update, drove a rather morbid soul to a
predictable end --- and with live guitar and bass combined together in
Ardour. The estimated amount of time invested in the track is around 2
hours. They further relate that the deceased intended to reanimate and
terrorize the locals as a zombie, which is why his remains were
unceremoniously cremated and dumped in a port-a-poopie.
His sole friend, a certain humanoid calling himself Mr. Falcon, provided
some interesting commentary --- once he had been properly restrained and
sedated, that is. "That fucker never stays dead," said the bereaved.
"This one time, at a LAN party, he got so pissed off cuz he was losing
that he ran outside screaming 'VALHALLA AWAITS,' and then curbed
himself. We're not sure how he pulled that off, but we were kinda glad
for it, considering that we didn't have to listen to constant
accusations of being 'fucking haxors' any more. But whaddya know, I saw
him a week later, arguing with a clerk at a grocery store because he
thought he was getting ripped off on rutabagas. He's a Jew, you know.
Or rather, if you didn't know, you should be able to guess."
The bereaved then began to speak incoherently about "the cleansing," and
of a giant, three eyed ape that would descend from the heavens and force
the vegetarians to eat fillet mignon. We're not really sure what that
was all about, but we take it that it won't belong before the "deceased"
resurfaces. It is for this reason that we advise against excessive
celebration, since the resultant letdown that will surely arise when Mr.
Bessman shows up again might cause a stroke in the poor soul who thought
he wouldn't have to hear any more crude penis jokes.
Technically speaking, Mr. Bessman is survived by no one, although we
thought it worth mentioning that he had a doll named "Zirp" that is
constructed of old scabs and reproductive fluids.
For CBS News, this is Dan Rathers, saying "Nobody can touch the
integrity of my journalistic standards."