The fact that life has no meaning *is* the reason to live.

Oh Great Cthulhu!

I have been an extremely industrious devotee this year.

In August, I burnt my copy of the Necronomicon (-75 points). Yesterday, I legally changed my name to Randolph Carter (-40 points). In April, I called down the wrath of Yog-Sothoth upon deafscribe (65 points). When the stars were right, I exposed threadwalker to soul-rending horrors (250 points). In January, I recruited psychopepsquad as a new cultist (30 points). In November, I visited my relatives in Innsmouth (100 points).

In short, I have been very good (330 points) and deserve the honour of having my body used as a host for one of your servitors.