: Cleared out some boxes of papers in the basement, and I made moar discoveries. None of them were good discoveries, just more of the same. I can nutshell it for you:

My late father was a colossal piece of shit, an entire vacuous, self-serving, lying bastard. If I was in a Lovecraftian story, I'd be twisted by it so bad that I'd turn to learning necromancy so that I could get my grand revenge on him and learn a terrible lessons of some kind.