Three weeks ago I was tasked with writing a review of 2020. My brain immediately clogged up as I tried to flush this massive turd of a year down the toilet of my mind. 2020 is now jammed somewhere in my spinal cord and I can’t get it out. Ever since, I have been in a perpetual state of creative catatonia, paralyzed from the neck down. The only thing I can say for sure is this: Either I drank way too much mushroom cactus juice and I’m stuck in the longest nightmarish trip ever, or I didn’t do nearly enough and I should really start chugging. Hindsight, they say, is 2020, but I still have absolutely no idea what in the world is going on.

But from what I can make out from my underground bunker, I hear that…

In January…

…after three and a half years of meticulous painstaking negotiations going through every conceivable detail with a fine-toothed comb, a comprehensive Brexit agreement was finally worked out between the U.K. and the EU, never to be reopened again. Britain finally left the bloc on January 31, and we all moved on with our lives.