To Whom it May Concern, Mr. Bessman was found in the early AM of Sunday, February 19, dead in his basement, with a folded up and buttered frisbee lodged in his throat. He etched his suicide note into his back with a steak knife (don't question it), explaining that a 40 hour work week and a 16 credit load at college had left effectively no time for hacking in the past seven months. Feeling disgusted with himself, he decided to end things the honorable way. As a parting gift, he uploaded a work-in-progress track to http://gazuga.net/stuph/caves.ogg. Little explanation is offered as to the nature and origins of this track, but that the deceased was found wearing a "SEGA does what Nintendon't" t-shirt may give us a clue into the mystery of this tune. Considering that the deceased's bloodstream was coursing with methandrostenalone, it is likely that this song came about during a brief fit of rage --- but being a complete and hopeless nerd, this was expressed with dorky bitpop, as opposed to wanton violence and destruction. Relatives believe the track was composed entirely by the deceased, with percussion and synth provided by Specimen --- the project which, by having gone so long sans update, drove a rather morbid soul to a predictable end --- and with live guitar and bass combined together in Ardour. The estimated amount of time invested in the track is around 2 hours. They further relate that the deceased intended to reanimate and terrorize the locals as a zombie, which is why his remains were unceremoniously cremated and dumped in a port-a-poopie. His sole friend, a certain humanoid calling himself Mr. Falcon, provided some interesting commentary --- once he had been properly restrained and sedated, that is. "That fucker never stays dead," said the bereaved. "This one time, at a LAN party, he got so pissed off cuz he was losing that he ran outside screaming 'VALHALLA AWAITS,' and then curbed himself. We're not sure how he pulled that off, but we were kinda glad for it, considering that we didn't have to listen to constant accusations of being 'fucking haxors' any more. But whaddya know, I saw him a week later, arguing with a clerk at a grocery store because he thought he was getting ripped off on rutabagas. He's a Jew, you know. Or rather, if you didn't know, you should be able to guess." The bereaved then began to speak incoherently about "the cleansing," and of a giant, three eyed ape that would descend from the heavens and force the vegetarians to eat fillet mignon. We're not really sure what that was all about, but we take it that it won't belong before the "deceased" resurfaces. It is for this reason that we advise against excessive celebration, since the resultant letdown that will surely arise when Mr. Bessman shows up again might cause a stroke in the poor soul who thought he wouldn't have to hear any more crude penis jokes. Technically speaking, Mr. Bessman is survived by no one, although we thought it worth mentioning that he had a doll named "Zirp" that is constructed of old scabs and reproductive fluids. For CBS News, this is Dan Rathers, saying "Nobody can touch the integrity of my journalistic standards."
