So, after a bit longer than I expected, my career at UT comes to an end. After three and a half years, Irritability will run in the Texan no more. While I don't intend to end the strip, it's sad to leave the comics page, and the Texan itself. Likewise, my short stint as editor of the comics page wraps up next Tuesday. Those in the basement with whom I interacted often enough to impress the memory of my name upon will no doubt be sad to hear that I am leaving. "The creepy guy in the back? Sometimes I see him, and he's got the same clothes on as the day before." they will say. But they'll be sad as they say it, deep inside. But it's not to brag about how popular I am that I write this column. I have a point, even though I don't feel like getting to it just yet. Let's go back to how popular I am. Not very. Just the same, some readers liked my work enough to write in about it. To those people, thank you very much, your encouragement gave me the strength I needed to shirk my homework and studies in favor of drawing three panels of nigh-incomprehensible randomness. Similarly, some people wrote in to describe to me their dissatisfaction with the strip. Screw you guys. I'm very sensitive about this.
Recalling past events and inside jokes are both staples of 30 columns. I will forgo that element of mine, partly because I have a poor memory, and cannot recall anything funny right now, other than Magicstodamus. But also because this is the first and last chance for me to write at length and have my ramblings reach the eyes of an appreciably sized audience. I must sacrifice fond memories for the sake of saying a lot of weird shit that no one is going to understand. This is how I have always lived my life, and I have no regrets. Also, before I get to the meat of this column, I'd like to wish everyone luck in all of their endeavors. Even if you are a horrid asshole who writes letters to the firing line or the Chronicle disparaging the Daily Texan Comics. Perhaps some success in your life would make you a slightly less wretched human.
First, I'd like to cover the basics. There are some things that I've noticed in my time here at UT that few others seem to have caught. For example, many people I spoke to did not know that the lich is the highest form of undead, or the jack-o-lantern is the lowest. Next to no one knows about the secret poison food chain, in which poison monkeys eat black widows and cobras, but are in turn eaten by poison flying fish. Despite my entreaties, UT does not seem likely to reverse its policies toward classes on these subjects. I ask you to remember, then, not to eat any animal that is colored bright green or purple. It is poisonous. You probably shouldn't be eating animals that you see crawling around, anyway. Just go to the store. Remember as well that, in the case of an undead battle, always bet on lich. This is the special knowledge that I bestow upon you.
For my Engineering comrades, I'd like to cast a little light on an interesting technical issue: Laser Planes. As we speak, or rather, as I write and you read, the Air force is attaching a giant laser to the front of not one, but two modified 747s. As you can imagine, the potential of this craft for the advancement of human society is enormous. Not only will the United States soon have the ability (and therefore, the right) to carve "USA RULZ" into the plains and mountainsides of other countries, but we can also take CD burning technology to the next level. An enormous CD, 50 miles in diameter can be built in the Arizona desert. The laser planes, circling overhead, could be used to burn every song ever, in MP3 format onto the disk. We would then fling it into space, or something. Or build a giant microwave in which to place it.
Finally, the words I'd like to leave you with are ones of warning. A chitonous menace is active in our land, and I fear many of those reading this now may fall victim to its poison. I speak, of course, of the hundred-legged menace. The centipede. Many underestimate this threat, mainly because of the numerous conspiracies and hoaxes (including, but not limited to the millipede fallacy) fabricated by centipede sympathizers. But common sense will illustrate the danger. Four legged creatures can be bad, but many of them are useful, and some are even friendly. Six legged insects are more malevolent, eating our food and spreading disease. Spiders are worse, having eight legs: some can incapacitate or kill with their venom. A centipede, however, blows them all away with one hundred legs, making it the deadliest creature alive. I feel I must reiterate that it has 100 legs exactly, no more, no less. If you only take one thing with you from my stay at the Texan, I hope it is this: a healthy fear and hatred of centipedes. Thank you for your time.