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2020 Christmas letter

Updated: Jan 9, 2021

Those of you intimate with Julian, Gregory, and various other calendar afficianodos will point out that this year’s factual summary of the most important events is late. We would counter with the power of peaceful protest. 2020 (the year of the Rat) was unsavory. Rush’s Neil Peart departed this earth, as did Mr. Bojangles himself. While losing earth’s greatest living drummer and Jerry Jeff Walker is painful, we felt like the “none shall pass” knight as the blows just continued to fall. Eddy Van Halen’s passing coupled with Kenny Rogers’ departure left no doubt as to what condition our condition was in. These body blows combined with other injustices to steel the Faught family resolve. We boycotted the 2020 Christmas update and now bring you this update via the internet in 2021, which is sure to be magical and amazing.

We know this to be true, because we’ve checked. Jolene’s recent career exploration as a particle physicist led to some Eureka moments when the heretofore rigid plateau of space-time proved to be far more fluid than previously thought. Jolene’s theories were initially met with some familial disagreement around the dinner table, but we all eventually came around to her point of view. Garrett was the hardest to convince, but once he agreed that the wave vs. particle argument breaks down at velocities greater than light speed, he acquiesced. We never doubted Jolene’s departure through space-time, or the immutable truths of her calculations, but we were nervous (to say the least) about her ability to return to us without grave galactic consequence.

As a result of her bravery, this year’s update is actually a forecast. Jolene’s reconnaissance into the future should offer calming salve to those suffering 2020-induced arrhythmia. –Have no fear, things will get better, but may get weird.

Elon Musk was defeated by Billy Ray Cyrus in the 2024 Presidential election, paving the way for a Kennedy-esque political dynasty. Elon’s nomination of Pete the dog as a running-mate in the name of species diversity backfired with some parts of the electorate. President Billy Ray was overwhelmingly popular, and paved the way for the 3rd and 4th Cyrus administration. Miley’s election in ’32 was all but inevitable and her re-election in ’36 surprised no one. Some eyebrows raised in ’40 when the triumvirate nominated her as empress, but only the nerd party objected. This obviously was dead on arrival because who likes nerds? Empress Miley’s decrees were universally successful, and American foreign policy moved from the previous era’s opacity and subterfuge to transparency and direct communication. Military action was henceforthed referred to as “Slamming down an Achy-Breaky”, and all enemies of freedom cowered under the threat of her scepter of literacy.

In ancestry news, The Queen’s rule was lengthy, eventually outliving Prince Albert before passing away peacefully in 2064, where a grieving planet first mourned her loss, then celebrated the crowning of Keith Richards as King Ronkulus the Bold in Buckingham Palace by Dr. Who (anointed as the Archibishop of Canterbury).

Team Faught was overwhelmingly relieved by Jolene’s return. We listened raptly as she sang of our bright future minstrel-style with her alarmingly lifelike pan-flute accompanyist, robot Zamfir. As a family, we felt an obligation to share this relief with our family and friends struggling with numerous travails. Once you know that this too, shall pass, the look back on 2020 seems… trifling. “-Tis but a scratch”. We offer this as your soothsayer so that your collective opinions are positive as you gaze with trepidation into the year of the Ox.


UPDATE TIME: Kris is still actively Marining, evidently to some positive effect, as the constitution still remains shrouded in helium at the national archives –largely due to his defense of it. All good things must come to an end however, and Kris was officially notified that his masquerade of competency was thin at best. Much like Planck’s chauffeur, his veneer of competence melted like a March Madness betting card under the harsh spotlight of responsibility, and he is leaving the Marine Corps after a few years’ worth of dalliance in that undertaking. Jo and the boys are looking forward to unfettered time with Dad’s opinions, and Kris is looking forward to filling up the car with gas whenever he feels like it, regardless of attire.

Jolene has sworn off time travel, and will not offer stock tips, but will sing you a tale accompanied by a pan flutist incapable of error. She is working hard at offloading all of the family’s personal belongings as they prepare to move aboard a sailing vessel this summer. The family has been more interested in boats than the British Army at Dunkirk, and has spent significant time and energy in securing a sturdy vessel both available within our meager means and capable of keeping our Nintendos, yoga mats, and toothbrushes dry while we tour the bits of the planet with a low Kalashnikov/Coconut ratio. Monitor this broadcast for further updates as we get closer to such a vessel.

We intend to document various pieces of this undertaking on a website built by our children. Keep this in mind when gawking at quality control, editing, and whether or not it is “mobile native”. Sparklefishventures.com will go live whenever the hell we get around to it. In the meantime, our children are still avid consumers of food, totally ignorant of electricity usage, and big fans of various software archetypes designed to ensnare their parents’ credit cards in schemes involving the exchange of real money for non-real things.

Speaking of youths, Garrett has demonstrated an ability to survive mosquito-induced anaphylactic shock in overnight island fishing trips, and both boys were able to rebuild an

outboard in time to ensnare an unsuspecting craigslist victim and free him from several hundred dollars. The $2.50 an hour in resultant compensation will leave them chomping at the bit for similar business opportunities.

School has moved partially online, and Jolene’s mastery of 8th grade algebra is luckily just as fresh as Kris’s grasp of RNA’s role in cell division. Both boys are lucky to have two professors as parents, and both parents are grateful they remember the quadratic equation, asymptotes, and whatever the hell a dangling participle is. Luckily, art is still a mostly torture-based endeavor school districts use to ensure everyone hates pastels, and music is still a reminder that xylophones and recorders are the ne’er released soundtrack of Dante’s inferno intermixed with the Gulag of your choice. It’s a wonder any adult can endure art or music after the torture we expose children to as part of those two labors.

Davis is attending partial school, where he’s excelling at partial grades. Luckily, his chores remain fulsome and welcoming of his personal attention. His father is there to provide cheerful inspiration, while his mother provides organizational hints aimed at assisting his dissection of on/offline google doc posting upload download crosschecks. Elementary, really. In more important news, workouts are now self-directed, GoPros and drones are part of the daily discourse, and they can make their own Calzones while mom and dad go out for dinner. This happens fast.

Both boys are looking forward to navigating, spearfishing, diesel maintenance, and living with the elements with their soon to be unshaven father and ever-patient mother. We can’t wait to get going.


We are incredibly grateful to the people we send this letter to. Family, Friends, and those who have special relationships we have not watered enough over the years to justify the fruits they have borne. Your influences have made us far better people than we otherwise would have been. We won’t be sending letters out anymore due to the logistics of making that happen while keeping the main thing the main thing. Communicating will necessarily shift to an online endeavor. Our kids really do run the website. Please interact. We’ll be late. A combination of spotty internet due to movement timelines and our own personal shortcomings mean that your witty missives will be deprived of timing –that critical comedic element. Never fear. Time will become less and less relevant. You’re getting older, we’re getting older, and Jo is a time traveller. Everything will be ok.


We heart you guys.

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