“So… so, all thanks again. And I’ll see you soon. The effort was appreciated. And I’m glad that I could make it. You’ll never know what just what it means to me. Keep your favors, I’m not in doubt, because you’re welcome.” The Spitvalves, “Worn Out Welcome.”

This is Dagger. And the above are the last lines from the song I used to play at the end of every semester during my college radio days. I always promised I’d be back, and I was. Until I wasn’t. You can’t stay in college forever, nor should you. Eventually it comes to time to pack it in and move on. You’ve worn out your welcome.

And that’s my way of telling you the Cru Jones Society is finished. For good this time.

As I grope for the words to express how I’m feeling, I keep coming back to the two simplest ones. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry we can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry we’re taking away an enjoyable weekly stop from those of you good enough to visit us every week. And I’m mostly sorry I couldn’t turn this into what I wanted it to be. What did I want it to be? I don’t know. Grantland, maybe? Grantland without all the reality show stupidity and perhaps a stronger editorial presence than whatever boring Wonder Bread sensibilities Bill Simmons has. The Classical, but not just for sports? The combined best parts of Gawker, Jezebel, and Deadspin?

It’s hard to remember because at some point blogging started eating my life and I realized I’d invested hundreds of dollars and thousands of hours into this thing and was still stuck on 150 Facebook followers for more than two fucking years. Google analytics made a mockery of our GoDaddy analytics and showed us only a small fraction of who we thought read us were actually reading us. I got married. I languished most of my friendships. I sacrificed a solid chunk of my twenties and poured my heart into trying to make this work. I wrote basically every day of the week before our first hiatus, and I still couldn’t make it work. I failed.

I’m sorry.

That’s not to say it was wasted time. Quite the contrary. To those of you who stopped by even once to check out something Senor Limon, Lee S. Hart or I wrote, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for being interested enough in what we said to spend a few minutes indulging. To those of you who have come back time after time after time – I owe you my infinite gratitude. It’s for you that we did this. You are the reason we made sacrifices and pushed ourselves as writers. My hope is that there was something that was just for you and me. No one else got it, but you and I shared a moment that no one else on the planet understood. That’s what makes me smile. The small reference. The nod between two people connecting just for a moment in the universe. That one shared moment. That’s why we did this. And that’s why we thank you.

I remember writing that the first article that gave me hope that this thing would catch on was the first Kentucky Derby Awards piece we wrote in 2008. So it’s only fitting that we close up shop with one more epic Derby post. Join us on Twitter @CruJonesSociety to livechat during the festivities. We’ll be sampling some new bourbon-based concoction, shoveling Bagel Bites into our face, and generally enjoying ourselves on one last CJS hurrah.

In the words of the Spitvalves: “Thank you for your time. We’ll be on our way. It’s not about pride. But it’s all that we can take.”

We love you. And we’ll miss you. Thank you. See you at the Derby.

Sincerely,

E Dagger
Editor-in-Chief
Cru Jones Society