Well, this is it. Shortly, the last Morning Sedition will begin. We’ve lost the War on Brains. Sammy the Stem Cell is dead, but, come Monday, there will be no Morning Remembrance for him. Bruce Cherry has thrown his final pitch (though he always struck me as more of a catcher than a pitcher), and Johnny K-Street has taken his last bet. Cardinal Milfington has left the church; we fornicators will just have to keep fornicating without him, hopeful that the light will still be on in hell for us when we get there. We’ll get no more reports from Planet Bush, though I’m confident that, when Nebraska legalizes same-sex marriage, Lawton Smalls and Ted will be the first to tie the knot (if Ted’s family can get over the fact that Lawton is half Jewish). Alas, Angus MacFarquar, we hardly knew ye. No more Liberal Confessional, Dream Diary, marching orders from the Streisand compound, Al-Qaeda news, Future Marc, or Marc the Shark. I only wish Recovery Corner had turned things around for our President; he never did quit peeing on today, did he?

Of course, Morning Sedition could have gone off with a nice, sentimental show full of remembering all the good times, but they couldn’t do that, could they? What exactly went on there, at the end of yesterday’s show? Was it a gag, like Mick Foley wrestles the Republican (if so, Sam and Janeane weren’t letting on during Marc’s Majority Report appearance last night)? Or has Marc finally snapped, egged on by the corporate scum, who’s never done radio before. Just what will today bring? Will Marc strangle the evil ass-kisser, Steve Gilmartin? Has Marc duct-taped 20 Blow-Me-Up Elmo’s to himself (“anybody comes near me, I start tickling, damnit!”)? Who are these mystery guests that Brendan alluded to yesterday?

I guess we’ll just have to sit back, and see how all this ends.

But, no matter what happens, let me just say thanks, one last time, for everybody that’s made Morning Sedition possible. If our time together was too short, at least you made the most of it. Good luck to all of you in the future, and good luck to all of us here, too, as we face the prospect of getting out of bed on Monday without Morning Sedition. As Marlon Brando once said, “the horror, the horror.”

Who’s choppin’ onions?