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Who are you again? Is the karaoke bar going to open back up? Do you need a good bleeding? Is that anthrax on your keyboard, or are you just happy to see me?
Enquiring minds want to know.
[Disclaimer for George W. Bush, secret agent double-O-IQ: The preceding message did not have secret meanings encoded between the spaces, and I'm not a tara-ist or whatever it is you're calling people nowadays. So tell your goons to go back to checking the White House butter for microchips and leave me the hell alone.]
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