Happy Turkey Day.

It's been two years since that painful, tortured night. Krista had left Barton, moved out leaving nothing but a pile of empty Hermes boxes behind. Left him behind so that he could do it. Barton's choice of wine for his suicide cocktail was a lovely and expensive California Italian-style red called, Plumpjack. The wine was an inside joke at his own expense, a Shakespearean reference out of the wrong play. Macbeth might have been a better choice. Five bottles were drunk that night, including the now famous La Tache.

Barton loved to cook Thanksgiving dinner himself. It was a holiday that revolved around food and family, both things he craved but never could get enough of. One of his favorite Thanksgiving feasts was to cook and serve Turducken, a boneless turkey stuffed with a boneless chicken, stuffed with a boneless duck. Barton probably ordered one airfreighted on dry ice from here.

Two year on, and still no resolution or closure in the CyberNET debacle. Except for Barton. So fire up the oven, stick a Turducken in and open up a bottle of Plumpjack. If you can't afford the Plumpjack, then a bottle of Fat Bastard Blanc de Blanc will do.

Rest in peace Bart. I wish you were still here so you could help me write this goddamned book... you fat bastard.

Jim