Dear World,

Doomsday is upon us. The reckoning of this great country has finally arrived. Today, the NHL playoffs start and literally nothing else matters right now. Each April, I am infected with a tenacious disease that no remedy can fathom nor cure. I beast inside me arises and the former Clarky you may know waives in the rear-view mirror as the Caps crazed lunatic takes the sole driver seat. He drives my life through twist and turns during these playoffs. This letter, it may come off as an apology but nay, this is a public service announcement to the world. A fair warning if you will. During what I hope is a two-month hiatus from reality, my beloved Caps will battle it out for the finest silver forged in the fires of mount doom… The Stanley Cup. I cannot and will not be held responsible for my actions during this time. A sickness is upon me and anything that may come to pass, should be pardoned.

To the public who may be subjected to me watching these playoff games, please forgive all and any outburst I may have. I know not what I am doing for I am possessed by playoff fever. Last year, I slapped a middle-aged man in the gut wearing a lightning jersey. We ended up becoming friends and talk to this day but still, who does that?

To my work, I assure you, I will be making it in every day to keep making dreams come true. That bit, you need not worry. However, I suggest you all wear snorkels and flippers to work for if the Caps lose, you will need to doggy paddle through the building from all my extravagant tears.

To my family. You’ve already informed me after last year’s chronicles you will not be watching the games with me. I respect that, it is probably what is most fruitful for this family. Talk to you in early June.

To all my friends. I send no apologies your way. Every year, you test me. You attempt to push my buttons despite our strong bonds of friendship. Believe it or not, I do know when the Caps lose or when they drop a game 7 to Crosby and the Penguins. You don’t need to text me, “Hey man, not sure if you saw but the Caps blew another series.” Dicks. Funny, don’t recall getting any text from you “friends” when Ovechkin hoisted the Cup this past year.

To all IKEA furniture. You never fair well during this time. Something about you I dislike. To the coffee tables, sinks and couches that may be sacrificed for the greater good of the Caps success, forgive me.

To my mental health. To you, I send the deepest of condolences. What you go through each waking spring is treacherous and absolute torture. You really deserve better but unfortunately, we are in this together my friend. There will be perilous times, days where you are pushed to the absolute brink and there may seem like there is no tomorrow. Listen to me, I promise you, there is a tomorrow and the horizon is glorious as ever. When we get to watch the Cup hoisted in DC for back to back championships, guess what, all the mental strain we’ve been through, it’s worth every second. All the bridges torn down and burned will flicker in the rear-view mirror as we drunkenly roam the streets of DC for the parade.

You hear that? That’s the sound of sweet victory.

Thank you all for accepting my apologies in advance. It’ll be a stressful two months but don’t worry, I’ll be just fine.

Forever and always losing my shit each spring,



Written by Clarky