Ever had a girlfriend that just wouldn’t … leave?
(or, for those that prefer boys, if you’ve known a Mission emo brat, you too know what I mean)
Maybe it was a hookup. Maybe a friend of a friend. But you were always just sorta biding time. Hanging out till something better comes along. Eventually, that better thing turned out to be, well, anything else. Like watching dust collect on the shriveled remains of your caring.
Remember the relief when one day, after months of items too conveniently “forgotten” at your house, ignored phone calls and awkward social gatherings when you suddenly realized…
They were gone?
Now crystallize and concatenate that relief you felt with the very real, inescapable fact that Boost is gone. That’s right, janky code that stuck around way too long, forgotten about until it called you in the middle of 24 to tell you that it had left a mutex behind the couch. Another moment lost, stolen by the one that won’t, for the love of God, get away.
Now it is gone. Mitch killed it. Exorcised it from Splunk with rituals to dark pagan Gods. Slayed it like Grendel. The deed is done.
Now we feast* and drink in revelry to this glorious act. Come and raise a glass of de-boost. Only on the South Side.