On my death bed, when my granchildren ask me what I most value during my experience through this ethereal plane, I will lean over my bed and grab my folder filled with the laminated HTML files of the threads during the Rodeo era and we will spend the last moments of my life pointing out my posts and chuckling. As my heart rate begins to drop... i will utter the words "why the f*** would oanye..." before being interrupted by a high frequency screech signalling my pulse flatline, causing my soul to departs from this world. They will tearfully, but hastly mumble "... tour when he has a son coming in December and Trab is already on tour with the Weeknd!!" as they descend into a frenzy of tears and sorrow and I will regret nothing