Myk's last ditch effort to make an impact on the Outpost before it was shuttered for good stunk of desperation and self-loathing. Realizing that no one would ever truly like him, he bid farewell to the board and his family, got in his Kia Sorento, and drove it promptly into an underpass cement column going 90 miles per hour. The cement column was not heavily impacted by the crash; in fact, by the time the Kia was hauled away, you could scarcely tell anything out of the ordinary had occurred -- a fitting epitaph, perhaps, for one so utterly impotent in all facets of life. Will he be missed? It's hard to tell, but, suffice it to say for the purposes of this report, he did exist, albeit on a purely biological level. Much like an early spring junebug exists, lolloping moronically around your porch, frenziedly trying to gain access to your well-lit home, but instead it just flops over onto its back and makes a depressing buzzing noise right before you step on it.
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"See that the men are thoroughly insulated, for we shall encounter extreme cold." - Dr. Zarkov
