Happy Thanksgiving

Listen up, degenerates—this is your fearless editor, leaning on the ragged edge of sanity to offer a few words before the turkey coma takes us all under. I’m not much for kumbaya moments, but hell, even a misanthrope like me knows the score: the HAMB, the Jalopy Journal—this whole glorious madhouse—would be nothing but a sad pile of digital dust without your busted knuckles and twisted imaginations.

You freaks give it life. You make it sing. And me? I’d be just another lunatic screaming into the void without this escape hatch, this beautiful wreckage, this reason to keep pounding keys like a deranged monkey.

So here I stand, hat in hand, a rare moment of sincerity dripping from the pen: Thank you. For all of it. For showing up, for giving a damn, for keeping the fire alive in a world hell-bent on forgetting.

Happy Thanksgiving, you glorious bastards.