Hey everyone, it's Tuesday.

These are the iconic four words that I would hear from Ryan every Wednesday to start of a podcast that is normally recorded on Mondays. Ryan's booming, welcoming voice let me know to strap in and gather around for a good old fashioned blabber fest. The Giant Bombcast has been, and continues to be, a fairly large part of my life since its hideous, placenta-encrusted birthing.

It's been an engaging, entertaining and often reflective ride through some of the best E3 coverage I've experienced and some of the most terrifying PAX coverage I've ever witnessed. From the Endurance Run to TANG to The Big Live Live Show Live, Ryan Davis was an incredibly talented showrunner and it always felt like he wanted me there every second to watch the insanity boil over until everything, inevitably, ran off the rails. I could feel his heart was filled with immense joy over every piece of content he brought to the table, no matter how dumb.

The emotions I felt yesterday were unexpected. I was shocked, angered and saddened. It was grief that struck me the hardest, then confusion. After all, I had never even had the pleasure to meet Ryan. While listening to the podcast or watching any of his sometimes profoundly idiotic Quick Looks, the more and more I thought that I would get along with him well. More importantly, I feel like he would be welcoming and accepting of me just as he seemed to be with all of the other fans.

It's been a hard couple of days for me and I can't even imagine how it must be affecting those close to him. I'm not much for interacting with the community or posting much on the forums, my blog or the comments, but I feel like it might help to put my thoughts into words, as hard as that may be. I feel like it's affecting me so personally because I really do feel like I've lost a good, close friend. I'm sure everyone who ritually listens to the Bombcast feels the same way, just as Ryan may have felt like anyone who tuned in was -his- friend. Hey everyone, it's Tuesday.

Thanks, Ryan.