Hello, hello. Good bye, good bye. I'm late, I'm late. I'm late!

"Would you rather be in a wheelchair stuck to a big rig going 50 miles per hour on a freeway for 4 miles, -OR- be stuck under a tree and have to saw your leg off with a pocket knife?" Thank you, Andrew, we all needed to hear that...


I'm late. I should get going. Otherwise, I'll be MORE late. And when in Far Far Away, MORE late is not a good thing to be. (Notice how well I hide my real location by writing a red herring and keeping my position in the dark)

I go now, you all are sad now, but you'll get over it, the day is young. You may come across something else to make you sad instead of the absence of my writing. Our feet are sane, and be careful when taking the I-80 offramp.