The real, unequivocal end is here.
That's Right. It's yet another year added onto Harmon's infinite age count. It makes you wonder, what is Infinity+1?
I wrote him a poem for his birthday. It goes as follows.
"Oh Harmon, thou who art so old. Whose bones be decrepit. Whose hair, filled with mold. Your age has reached its all-time high. 'Till next year while time flies by. Oh Harmon, thou who art turning gray. Whose body is withering, with such fast decay. It appears that the time, it's finally nigh. Thou who this website makes release a great sigh. Happy birthdate to you, and people untold. But truly we must know, what makes thou so old?"