Of matters extrauniversal, yet to sound.

As fate (or her devout follower and advocate mr Fuck You (of mainly Japanese heritage(one part German I think(Hitler's lost shoe perhaps?))) would have it, Dusk of Man has recently lost two of it's members in an accident most tragic and unfortunate.
Both of them, drummer J and guitarist H, were drowned in a pool of blood and urea of their own provision, under circumstances found to be most natural, by a third party found to be so neutral that the lack of conceptual gravitation towards any alignment ought to be overemphasized even on occasions where such a statement could and would be deemed as unorthodox device of discussion considering matters at hand.

As all possibilities are explored (and exploited of course) further development shall be revealed by me, your loyal anti-illuminati counter operative, on this very same site at each time I deem it necessary to do so(or not, whatever). How I come by this information is of no concern to you nor me, but having and getting it is nonetheless of great advantage in this dark middle age(d?(?)) déjà vu.

I wonder what day is it.
Admiral

P.S.
It has been two minutes since I came out with this insignificant revelation.
It would seem that this wasn't my diary, and therefore one should note the first chapter is yet another figment of my imagination (until tonight 2300-hours of course).
Until I've validated that blasted first chapter.
Ta taa.

P.P.S
One really should forget that strangled note about 2300-hours and so on.
You really really should.