Vulpes Abnocto's Blog
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    Vulpes Abnocto Specifically, I want to know what people think about this

    I'll share my thoughts after you all tell me what you think.
    gnmmarechal and VinsCool like this.
    Vulpes Abnocto Hi, how are ya, come on in!
    You, that tall guy in the back, I know you came in to correct my spelling of "Commander Shepard".
    It's not a typo.
    I don't see any "Where did Vulpes go?" posts yet, so hopefully this will stave them off.
    I thought it only fair to explain why I'm gone for days at a time, now.
    Some of you already know I've got a new job and a new title.
    Every night I'm tending and mending problems on a local farm, and part of that task is looking after and feeding fifteen sheep.
    It wasn't a difficult job. And in the beginning it didn't take up much of my time. But two weeks ago my hours doubled because it's the time of year when we have to milk the sheep.

    I'll give you a moment to let that sink in.

    No, no I'm not turning on a pump and suction-cupping it to a ewe's nipples, I'm doing the old-fashioned teat-squeezing thing that your great-grandparents did.

    We take the milk and make premium soap out of it. Really high-grade stuff if I do say so myself. That's the next thing they want to teach me to do. I made six pounds of soap the other day, but had to have the lady of the farm helping me along every step of the way. Got some diluted lye on my forehead. Had to wash it off before it burned through to my skull. Lots of fun.

    Tomorrow my workload doubles again, when I take over the morning duties as well as the evening ones. And since they expect me to take care of all the chickens, all the sheep, the three dogs, the eight cats with nine kittens, keep repairing all the problems on the farm, a good portion of the planting, and perhaps even more: It looks like I'm unofficially being promoted to "farm manager".

    I don't yet know what this means for my time on GBAtemp. I haven't yet had the time to adjust to my schedule enough to resume my regular duties here, and they're already changing it again. But this season only lasts four months of the year. Around midsummer I'll be working three hours less per day and should certainly be back at that point.

    To answer the most common questions:
    I actually love the job. (Even the rams are less temperamental than 'tempers) [​IMG]
    Yes there is the distinct possibility that I could blow up the house while making soap. I could also chemical-burn my hands into tendon-clad bones if I really fucked up.
    Yes we have some black sheep on the farm, and they're absolutely adorable.
    Fun fact: A white sheep has white skin. Same for brown or black. Yes, the black ones jump higher.
    Yes, I've had to buy a bottle of k-y lube specifically to service sheep milking them. .....Buncha fucking pervs.
    Yes I've carried lambs like in the bible pictures. Spoiler: they don't like it.
    No I do fucking not do the Mike Rowe testicle-biting thing. Nor will I ever. That ain't my job. I did bob a few tails, but that doesn't require testicles on my chin.
    We get about 0.7 to 1.2 liters of milk from each of the three milkable sheep, twice a day. (at least 4.2 liters per day, every day, for four months.) It takes 0.7 liters of sheep milk to make 36 bars of soap. The soap sells for $10 per bar. We're not making a fortune, but it's good money for a good product. What makes it a good product? All six varieties we offer are far more gentle than any soap on your local grocer's shelf.

    So that's where I am.
    I'll get back to work ASAP, but for now I'm needed elsewhere.
    Vulpes Abnocto I didn't make this, but I enjoyed it.
    I figure a few of you will too.


    Music: Tank! by The Seatbelts

    Man I can't wait for ME3 :hrth:

    In other news, after major amounts of rain a new lake has formed in my yard.

    2016 edit
    Vulpes Abnocto I just got my 1000th private message.
    (Yeah, I only joined the staff for the oversized inbox)
    Vulpes Abnocto Names may have been changed to protect those who are presumed to be innocent.

    Volume I
    Volume II
    Volume III
    Volume IV

    In the most recent editions of Perry Tales, you've been introduced to the other main players in our little Pack.
    This week we'll get back to the guy for which this series is named.

    A sad fact about diabetic people on dialysis is that their bodies begin to fail rather quickly.
    Typically at that point a person has about two years left to live.
    They're far more prone to infections, and their bodies simply cannot fight them off anymore.
    As much of a fighter as my friend is, it's obvious that he's beginning to succumb to his wounds.
    His heart has lost function past 50% now, and his extremities are getting far less blood flow than they normally should.
    Specialists have come through the dialysis clinic like they're harvesting the ripened crops, telling every third person that they need to have one or both legs removed to extend their life span.
    Perry was one of those who was asked for permission to amputate.

    And as you would expect of my personal hero, he told them to go straight to hell.
    Perry goes a bit stir crazy after being cooped up in a single place for more than a few hours. He's always on the go. Taking his legs would be a Serious cramp on his preferred lifestyle.
    So he came to me with a very odd request.

    "Do you know anybody who carves peg-legs?"

    Of course he could have a custom molded prosthetic that would hardly be noticeable as being a replacement.
    He could have a performance carbon fiber 'recurve' leg that would let him run, or jump like he's not been able to in years. (that is, if he could breathe well enough to do so)
    But none of that is his style.

    He's had me draw up the rough plans for what he wants.
    Two lengths of ash wood will be carved down into a separate tibia and fibula bone. At the kneecap will be a skull. Each eye socket will be inset with an LED, probably red, with a hazy glass "marble" (think of the glass chunks people put in flower planters or fishbowls)
    The end will taper to a peg and covered in a small rubber point. (crutch end)
    The entire thing will be heavily lacquered or shellacked.
    And unless I have my artist friend in Australia make them, I'll be carving them myself.
    (I'll post W.I.P. pics if/when the project becomes necessary.)

    But for now Perry's legs remain intact, even though they're heavily infected, and have very little feeling in them anymore.

    Fortunately he's got one more member of the pack helping to keep him afoot;
    a fat black and tan chihuahua by the name of Rusty.
    Rusty is Perry's little companion on the nights when he can barely breathe due to fluid buildup on his lungs.
    If his breathing gets too ragged, Rusty will jump up and bark frantically to wake the other people in the house, and alert them to the situation.
    Other times when the infection buildup in his legs gets so great that it begins manifesting itself on his skin, Rusty will lick it away. For a while Perry griped at Rusty for this, until he realized that it would actually keep him out of the hospital for a day or two more than without such ministrations.

    I know this issue is far more of a "downer" than most of the previous Perry Tales,
    so to make up for it I'll share one of the little blurbs that can't be made into it's own story.

    For the longest time Perry had two tubes hanging out of his shoulder; One red, and one blue.
    The red went directly to his heart, and the blue directly to his lungs.
    He was constantly getting strange looks from kids and adults, since few people know what they are.
    And when people had the courage to ask about them, he couldn't give them a straight answer.

    "Those are my ripcords" he'd say, showing them off, his expression totally deadpan. "Blue for the primary, red for the secondary"
    This always got a puzzled look from people and he'd explain further.
    "See, when i get going too fast to stop myself I just pull the ripcord and a parachute pops out of my ass to slow me down."

    He hardly ever told people exactly what they were for, preferring to leave them wondering if he was being serious.

    I hope that next week I'll have a more upbeat story to share with you guys.
    Vulpes Abnocto Names may have been changed to protect those who are presumed to be innocent.

    Thank you all for returning to read the ongoing series of stories about my best friend which I call "Perry Tales"
    For anyone who is unfamiliar with the series, please have a look at the previous offerings before reading this one.

    "The bullshit my friend tells people to fuck with them"
    "How to keep small-town police from fucking with you"
    "To know the man is to know his father....and vice versa"

    In this week's episode, we meet Perry's nephew. Let's call him Jaybird (since everybody else does).
    Jaybird is currently nine years old, and has a highly active imagination. His mother has never been a major factor in his life, and his main teachers have been Perry, Tony, and in the past year or so: me.

    This week Jaybird was riding with Perry in the previously mentioned Ford Explorer (with it's huge tires and modified gear ratio)
    when lo and behold (act surprised here) a small town police officer wheeled around to get behind them, flashing his lights and flipping his siren on and off to signal them to pull over.

    Perry takes this all in stride, but Jaybird is just brimming with excitement;
    "What does he want, why are they pulling you over, what's gonna happen, uncle?" The questions are just pouring out of Jaybird's head as though a dam had broken inside his skull.
    So Perry calms him down as best he can. (an exercise in futility)
    He tells Jaybird that he'll take care of everything, and then tells Jay to be quiet while he talks to the police officer.
    But the words "Be quiet" aren't exactly the highest in Jaybird's vocabulary.

    Perry recognizes the officer as one who has pulled him (and me) over in the past. so as a joke he winks at Jaybird and waits for the young guy to walk up beside the vehicle.
    While the officer is busy looking into the back windows of the vehicle he (once again) throws his arms out the window and yells "DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT!".
    It's enough to spook the small-town cop into jumping back and grabbing his gun.
    But after hearing the voice, and seeing that there is no threat the officer approaches, instantly recognizing Perry by his red hair and jocular demeanor.
    "You're the guy that drives that suped-up green Mustang, right?"
    Perry confirms that he's correct, and explains that he's driving his father's truck that day, and introduces the oficer to our little nine year old friend.

    Jaybird exclaims (as he so often does) " Why are you giving us trouble!? We're just out here trying to make a dollar THE HONEST WAY!" (his blond hair and blue eyes just exude the attitude that he's gotten quite honestly.)
    At this point the cop is grinning and laughing at this little boy who is so mouthy, and yet so worldly. He excuses himself and goes back to his cruiser to file his non-report, and retrieve a little treat for the young boy.

    When he comes back, the officer is carrying a sticker with the words "deputy sheriff" for Jaybird,
    but you and I both know that Perry can NOT leave well enough alone.
    While the officer was gone he had told Jay that his uncle was DEFINITELY going to jail, and that Jaybird would either have to drive the explorer home (LOL!) or call his grandfather to come and take him home.
    In retrospect, this might have been a mistake.
    When the officer walks up to the truck again, Perry is showing Jaybird how to call his grandpa on Perry's phone
    (because when he's playing a joke, he takes it to the very limit of decency)
    and instead of waiting for the officer to speak, Jaybird demands the officer not to take Perry to jail.

    "My uncle does guilty stuff but there are other people doing even more guilty stuff than him!"

    At this point the officer gets a very confused look on his face
    "Your uncle does bad stuff? What sort of bad stuff does he do?

    "He busts people in the head!"
    *at this point the officer looks bemused and bursts out in laughter*

    For a lot of kids, this would be the time to stop talking....but no, not Jaybird.
    "If you take my unc' to jail I'm gonna sit here with this truck until my papaw gets here 'cause there might be some stuff in this truck you shouldn't see!

    Again the officer gets curious.
    "What's in there that I shouldn't see?"
    Jaybird: "Well, there's a buncha papers from Burger king, aaaand some boxes from Krystal (the southern equivelant to White Castle) aaaaand some old fries that ain't no good anymore, aaaaand....."
    At this point the officer (thankfully) stops Jaybird, telling him that he's not going to take his uncle to jail over a messy truck.
    He hands over the "sheriff's deputy" sticker to Jay, and he and Perry get into a discussion about how good a police officer Jaybird would be.

    Of course, the bird has to chime in:
    "Yeah! I'd be a great cop! I'd just bust people in the head and take them to jail!"
    Perry: Sounds like you'd be a good town officer.
    Town officer: Wait a minute, it's not all That bad anymore....

    so the officer and my friends part ways, with everybody involved laughing their asses off.

    But you know, my friend has created a monster in his little prodigy.....
    He'll make a good partner in crime one day. ^_^....eventually....

    On to Volume V, or; "When you don't have a leg to stand on"
    Vulpes Abnocto Names may have been changed to protect those who are presumed to be innocent.

    Volume I
    Volume II

    You truly cannot understand Perry without knowing his absolutely incredible father, Tony.
    Tony is now a twice paralyzed veteran of the Panamanian Conflict, and other arenas which he's not at liberty to speak of.
    He's an amazing man, who I'm honored to know and love.
    Tony has taken me in as though I were a little brother to Perry.

    I can already hear you saying
    "Twice paralyzed? Really? That's not possible!"
    I swear by my mother's name that it is possible.
    You see, Tony was working to remove the barnacles on a dock.
    To remove these barnacles, they floated the dock onto the shore, and flipped it over.
    the dock fell on top of him, breaking his spine, and rendering his legs nearly useless...
    ...for a while.

    Over the years after this incident, Tony taught himself to walk again.
    But two years ago he was involved in a vehicular accident which re-broke his spine.
    Once again Tony found himself bound to a wheelchair.
    But that only slows him down a little.

    Tony is a very adamant person, when it comes to what he wants.
    He's the only person I've ever known to sport a "handicapped" tag on his motorcycle.
    (This is featured twice in "Road Rash" magazine, out of Chattanooga Tennessee, in case you ever want to question the validity of my stories.)
    In the years hence, Tony has re-learned how to use his single crutch to walk on his own.
    It's not perfect, but it's single-minded mobility.

    Tony was an absolutely HUGE man before these accidents.
    The size of his biceps would dwarf many men's heads.
    And this didn't change so much when he was relegated to only using his upper body.
    There have been a number of times when Tony has removed the foot rest from his wheelchair and used it as a weapon.
    (Hey, it extends your reach by a foot and a half)
    But he's never been prosecuted for this.
    After all, are you going to want to bring up a paraplegic man on charges of assault against a fully fledged adult male?
    I think not.

    He's not a man you'll ever want to cross, (even now)
    but he's been just as good as my own father to me,
    simply because I've never screwed his family over.

    But even with the paralysis recovery to consider, I never have a second thought over letting Tony drive.
    (and he often does!)

    So few people can reconnect their feet to themselves after a broken back, but Tony has now done so twice.
    Yes he stumbles once in a while,
    but that's where I come in.
    I can still catch him before he hits the ground and hurts himself further.

    I look up to this man just as much as I do my own father,
    and woe betide anybody unfortunate enough to have less of a connection with him.
    because many people have not survived a face-to-face encounter with El Diablo Rojo.
    (The name he was known by to many Panamanians)

    I cannot speak so freely about Tony as I have of Perry,
    but this should let you know why Perry will say
    that he's only half the man that his father is.

    I can only hope to be a quarter of the man that each of them are.

    Even that might be stretching it.

    Volume IV
    Vulpes Abnocto Names may have been changed to protect those who are presumed to be innocent.

    You've had a short introduction to my very good friend in Volume I of this series.
    But we've barely even scratched the surface of who and what my friend is.

    Around a year ago, one of the police officers in my sleepy little town had a run-in with Perry's father in their highly modified Ford Explorer.
    Not only does this truck sit on a raised frame and oversized tires, but it also features a modified gearbox, which allows it to burn rubber with it's massive tires.
    This past week, this same police officer spotted Perry driving the same ford without his seatbelt on.
    That's probable cause! It's a reason to pull that vehicle over and search it!
    (because there's very little to do in my backwoods hometown)
    With the tubes hanging out of Perry's chest, he's been given a doctor's permission to drive without a seatbelt, because if he were to be in a wreck, that belt would likely do far more damage to him than the wreck could by itself.

    But this rookie cop had a hard-on against this vehicle, and he has been hell-bent on finding a reason to impound it for a year now.

    Perry has an uncanny ability to remember the numbers of the cars that particular police officers drive.
    He recognized the number on this car, and decided that it was time to make a scene.
    So he threw his truck violently into 'Park' in the middle of Historic Highway 41,
    yanked his keys from the ignition,
    threw the keys out of the window and onto the pavement,
    then threw both of his hands out the window,
    screaming "DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT!"

    The officer was absolutely dumbfounded, and called for backup.

    Ultimately, eight cars showed up on the scene with sirens blazing and lights spinning.

    They wound up shutting down both the the Northbound and the Southbound lanes of Hwy 41.

    The original officer on the scene swore that he knew that vehicle, and knew that he could find a huge number of issues to ticket Perry for on this traffic stop...

    And he was mistaken.

    After a seatbelt ticket, Perry was allowed to go on his way.
    (the ticket he got for this same issue six months ago was thrown out by the judge)

    The officer in question is left doing a pile of paperwork explaining why he shut down a major thoroughfare over a seatbelt ticket.

    There's very little chance he'll ever mess with this particular truck again.


    Sometimes you have to know when it's the right time to make a scene.

    Volume III
    Vulpes Abnocto Names may have been changed to protect those who are presumed to be innocent.

    To tell you this story, I first need to give you some background.

    One of my best friends in the world is a very sick guy....
    sick both in the "ill" sense of the word,
    and in the mentally warped sense.

    Perry is 40 years old, a diabetic, and on dialysis due to complete renal (kidney) failure.
    He has had three surgeries on his arms to improve his veins to the point where he can have dialysis done via two IVs in his arm, rather than with two tubes currently hanging out of his chest. (one to his heart, and another to his lungs)
    Most people don't notice the tubes in his chest if he wears a shirt with sleeves,
    but it's hard not to notice the multitude of scars on his forearms,
    and even harder to miss the large bulge of a hose recently inserted beneath the skin of his left arm to facilitate the tri-weekly procedure.
    But Perry is a joyful soul that revels in messing with people's minds.
    (can't imagine why he and I get along so well :evil:)
    so he can't simply tell people what is wrong with him.

    This week a young, pretty, and very naive blonde girl at Quizno's asked him about his scars, and especially the very odd sub-dermal bulge.
    He began by telling the girl that he was "deformed".
    This of course piqued her curiosity, (much as it was meant to) so she probed further.
    He said
    "Well, I'd tell you about it, but nobody ever believes me when I tell them, so, yanno..." and he shrugs it off, as though he had no intention of telling her anything more.

    Now she's completely on the hook and hanging on his every word.

    [quote name='Perry']"Well, a few years back I was riding through Iowa (on motorcycle) in the middle of nowhere. Corn as far as the eye could see. I was getting tired since it was about 4 AM, and there was absolutely no place in sight to stop and rest.
    But it was a cool night, with a clear sky, and a full moon shining down, so i decided after miles of nothing but corn on both sides of the road that I'd pull over, back my bike into the cornfield, and have some sleep before morning.
    so that's just what I did. i was about ten feet off the road, behind the corn rows, hidden from view of the road. I pulled out my bedroll, layed it in the soft dirt, and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep.
    Later I awoke to an incredibly bright light in the sky, getting steadily brighter.
    I don't really remember what happened next, but the next thing that I can remember, I was in a very brightly lit room, surrounded by a dozen tiny guys whose faces I couldn't make out. I didn't hurt at all, but somehow in my mind I knew that things would turn out to be alright.
    I lost consciousness again, and awoke laying in a cornfield the night After I had initially parked in the corn,
    but almost an entire state away from where I had stopped my bike![/quote]

    This poor girl is visibly suspicious of his story, but polite enough to listen and nod as though she believes him.

    [quote name='Perry']And when I woke up, This thing in my arm was itching like hell, and burning a lot. It's still kinda hot.[/quote]
    (with that much bloodflow through a huge tube of course it's comparatively hot.)

    At this point he invites her to cup her hand over the tube and feel it.
    When you touch this tube you can very clearly feel the flow of his blood, and the thrum of his heart, as though it were a storm drain gushing with gallons per minute.
    It's a very biological feeling.
    The thing feels as though it has a life of it's own.

    Timidly she puts out her hand, and places it over his forearm for a few seconds......before jerking her hand back, screaming in terror, and fleeing into the back of the store to recompose herself.

    Perry and his dad left the store without telling the poor girl that he was messing with now when he goes in, she doesn't want to talk to him anymore.
    The last time he saw her, he raised two fingers in a V and said to her
    "I come in peace"


    There are a thousand reasons why I love this guy like a brother.
    This is just one of the most recent.

    On to Volume II
    Vulpes Abnocto It's been many years since I was last awakened by my nightmares.

    Two pieces of background before I get into the story:
    1: I don't have a dog.
    2: I usually like dogs far better than I like people

    It begins with me sitting in a slightly furnished bedroom at my friends' house.
    (No budrow, not your house)
    I'm seemingly housesitting overnight, and in the house with me are three large dogs.
    One of these I know belongs to me. The other two belong to my absent friends.
    Mine, a gray German Shepherd, is the youngest, and it's been wounded. It's front paws are bandaged.

    In the dream I'm nearly asleep when the two other dogs begin fighting with mine.
    I sit up and grab a nearby 20 gauge shotgun and flick on the lights.
    Now, at this point, the fight disperses, but the three dogs are milling together, mine looking away from me.
    I level the shotgun at them, and think for half a moment.
    The fight is over, but I'm still angry. I take aim, and fire, purposely shooting my own dog in the back of it's head, decapitating it.
    With a huff I sit back down on the bed, flick off the bedside light and begin to return to sleep.

    But I'm in my friend's house, not my own.
    The dead dog is bleeding out all over their carpet.
    So after a couple minutes I sit up again.
    I don't bother turning on the light as I lift the body and drop it into a garbage bag.
    (I live out in the country, I've done this sort of clean-up a time or three)
    I'm leaning down to pick up the severed head when it weakly growls at me,
    and I fall back against a wall.
    There's just enough light coming through the shaded window for me to see it's baleful glare turn on me,
    and it seems that the dismembered skull is slowly turning in it's semi-congealed blood, like a turret, to face me.
    I reach over and turn on the overhead light. The bulb blows an instant after I flip the switch,
    but I have enough time to see it's tongue lolling limply from it's lips
    and a trickle of blood coming from it's nose,
    before I'm plunged back into darkness.
    A plaintive moan wells up in my throat

    I think that moan is the noise that woke me up.


    I fucking hate my mind, sometimes.

    Perhaps now that I've written it all out, (and the sun is beginning to rise) I'll be able to sleep again.
    Vulpes Abnocto

    Just so you know,
    I've got a birthday coming up.

    Vulpes Abnocto Just asking people's opinions on this.

    Personally speaking, this has been the worst year ever.
    Good fucking riddance.

    Feel free to discuss.
    Vulpes Abnocto Found this a few minutes ago @ boingboing.

    8-Bit jesus by Doctor Octoroc, free download

    Figured some other 'Tempers might enjoy it.


    We Three Konami
    8 Days of Master Robots
    Ryu, The Red Nosed Ninja
    We Wish You A Merry Faxanadu
    Silent Knight Man
    Carol Of The Belmonts
    Little Drummer Nemo
    Joy To Commando
    Super Jingle Bros.
    Bubbles We Have Heard On Bobble
    What Guardian Is Legend?
    Deck The Kremlin
    Icarus! The Angels Sing
    The Legend Of Noel
    O Come, All Ye Vampires
    Kraid, Rest Ye Merry Mother Brain
    Have Yourself A Final Little Fantasy

    Sparklepussy needs to cover a few of these.
    Vulpes Abnocto Tonight I'm sitting at Budrow66's house, where I visit often and feel quite safe.
    Perhaps not safe enough to leave my car doors unlocked,
    but otherwise, I don't worry about being in this neighborhood.

    A little while ago I woke up from a nap on his couch, and came here to his office,
    immediately noticing the horrible act of vandalism.

    Budrow's desktop background is usually set to some image of death, gloom, or doom.
    (He's a really cheerful dood.)
    But tonight it had been changed.
    I can only assume he did this to let me know about the heinous crime committed against me.
    Tonight his background was this:

    Pay no attention to the timestamp. It never got set correctly.

    That's right.
    Somebody broke in here, and pasted a hate message on my NDS.

    Nobody knows just how the criminals got past my best friends to commit their act.

    Perhaps it was a ninja.
    *keeps an eye on Densetsu *

    Whoever it was, they were obviously quite skilled, rather bold,
    and they've deeply hurt my heart with their razor-sharp commentary.

    I may need psychological counseling.

    *Borrows a teddy bear to clutch in his sleep*
    Vulpes Abnocto So I'm flipping through the channels today, deciding what to not watch
    and for half a moment I catch a glimpse of an attractive woman bathing in warm beer.

    I did a double take. :blink: You would have too.
    and of course I searched it.
    I'm sure this won't be news to some of the people here, but apparently there are a lot of people bathing in beer.

    (links are work safe)

    Czech clinic
    Ney York Times

    (Bear in mind, none of the people pictured in any of these images is anywhere near as attractive as the lady I saw)

    But they're all doing it wrong.

    If you want to really make money with this, you get models to bathe in the beer. Lets say six, to begin with.
    you photograph them while they're waist deep in the beer, and make different labels for each model.
    Then you photograph them again, with the same smile or look, but with the beer up to their shoulders.
    These are the outer labels of the bottle. They're easy to peel off. ^_^
    then you process and bottle the beer, and chill it. (Yeah, I'm an American. People that drink warm beer boggle my mind.)

    Sell it online ....

    \o/ PROFIT

    Each new year, a you could have new line of models who "flavored" your beer.

    It'd be an instant collector's item.

    Yes, my faith in humanity has sunken this far.
    Thank you intarwebz.
    *shrug* Might as well benefit from the condition of the world.