"Alea Iacta Est."
Yes, my friends, the die is cast. There is not turning back, and the end of this Suicide season will come now only after long struggle and much devastation.
Do not make the mistake of taking this point lightly; others have done so, and others have perished. Cast your dice in the face of suffering and prepare yourself for the unknown tumbling, for there can be no controlling them once they leave your hand. Tumble they will, and tumble true, but the truth may not be that which you envision.
And so in Week Twelve, as 133 participants watch from the safety of their homes, licking their wounds as they begin the countdown to 2014, I ask those who remain to stand boldly, and proudly, and cast in their lots.
My own lot lies with Poe this week, who as in years past has granted use of those immortal words: "And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a Raven of the yesteryears of yore . . ." Yes, I return to Baltimore to make my mark, while the masses are most heavily upon the Texans (at 2-9) and the Lions of Detriot. Good luck to all, and to all a good night.
Alea Iacta Est, and greatness awaits.
That is all.
That is all.
