One week ago, I thought the movement to save the Houses was quite touching. A gallant, last-ditch tilt at a windmill is still an effort and a symbol to remember and get behind...
But what we got instead was a sad display of roll-over-and-die.
Kids, in a fight for your lives, you have to show in a practical way how your existence is worth preserving. Appeals on moral grounds aren't going to stop the swing of the executioner's axe. Neither is pleading for mercy, for another chance if you haven't already got a bargaining chip to place on the table. Doe eyes and tears may avail you a hanky and a pat on the shoulder, but that's all. If you have no idea what to do to save your own neck, don't expect the guillotine to advise you on that account.
And now, we bid farewell to Gus, Nix, D'gon and Griff. You had so much potential, but we only used you for sport. Those of us who dreamed you into existence will regret your passing.
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