Thank God for the Zone...
You know, when I think the "looney level" is getting too high here, I just have to step out into the rest of the internet for a while.
Visualize me, coming in the door, slamming it behind me, clothes tattered, undefinable substances splattered on me, and thin streams of smoke rising from various parts of my body.
I won't go into details, but the hounds are in full cry again. Right now even Bowser looks like Alistair Cooke, sitting in a large chair, smoking a pipe with a thick book in his hand.