Tragic news swept over the tropical land of Margaritaville as Jimmy Buffett, the land's Grand Parrot, aka the "Margaritaville" icon, transformed into a celestial parrot and flew to the eternal land of heavenly margaritas at the age of 76, decreeing on his deathbed, "Party at the end of the world." When asked about the whereabouts of the undisclosed health issue responsible for the migration of their Parrothead sovereign, palace sources divulged that it was last seen blending into a lost shaker of salt. Well, someone really did step on a pop top. Draped in Hawaiian florals and a hallowed tropical sunhat, the music legend lured the sun down serenely, serenaded by good tunes, the tender barks of his faithful dogs, and the ever so slight sound of margaritas blending in the background, much like the lilting rhythm of enthusiasm that underscored his eternal love for beaches, boats, bars and ballads. "He lived his life like a song until the very last breath and will be missed beyond measure by so many," the statement posted on his website read. Indeed, much like his infamous margarita, Jimmy Buffett was a well-blended cocktail of happiness, with an extra dash of chill and sun-soaked vibes. In fact, if serenity could be quantified, Jimmy Buffett's lifetime reading would probably tilt the scale. Sure, he couldn’t always remember his third verse, that was a given, as declarations from his pirate-faced alias proved, but the man knew how to get everyone to loosen up so damn fast that he created an oasis of his own. Thanks to that bewitching charm and freewheeling behavioural blueprint, the demographic '50-and-senile' will never mean the same again. Grieving fans took to social media to share tributes scattered with tequila-soaked pineapples and hula girls— a fitting tribute to our bayside bard. Every Parrothead's heart has indeed been stung by this storm, although the inevitable rainbow after promises to be a very Buffett rainbown – sunny, with half the chance of margaritas. Dreams of escape will now have a more poignant soundtrack. Goodbye, sailor, gone fishing. Somewhere hula girls lament, and cheeseburgers remain in paradise. Don't worry, Parrotheads. Be happy, for the aloha spirit shall keep blowing out flip flops, searching for lost shakers of salt, and forever sailing towards that horizon where the weather is always perfect for a cheeseburger in paradise. And remember, it's always 5 o'clock somewh-- wait, gotta go, it’s Margarita time!