South Park is dying. If I really love it, I'll let it go.

Honestly, I hadn't heard anything. No rumors of trouble with Studio bosses or artistic differences or some Yoko fucking Ono. South Park is dying. Today's Tween wave thing was the beginning of the long goodbye. Apparently they're contractually obligated to produce 7 more episodes. After that- nothing.

I know I'm supposed to be growing up along with Stan and Kyle and Mr. Marsh and his wife who have come to the final parting of ways. I know, I too should now be able to see that South Park, qua South Park, is just another turd in the microwave and that this has always been its teaching.
Once I see that, I too will be free. Perhaps that's why I've never been in love. Never known I've been in love. Because only now do I understand I didn't just love South Park- I lurved it. It took my virginity. I gave it my whole heart. But, like all composite things, it too must perish. But not before leaving me with this final Erigenian teaching that love- this unexpected gift so close to the end of the middle of my life, or the beginning of its end- love too is shite, for all things that are are shite. And somehow that makes everything okay.

South Park is dying. If I really love it, I'll let it go.