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Sunday, May 18, 2008Mashed Potatoes and Gravy - New StyleThis new style may not be to everyone's liking but there are quite a few people who just love it. And they really, really resent it when people will complain about them eating this dish. In fact, at one time, the prejudice against eating this new mashed potatoes and gravy was so rampant, that they actually had to eat it in private, secret like. You know, people can be so narrow-minded. Fecesphobes are what they are. Really, it's no one's business what other people choose to eat. Just because they have a different palate than normal people is no reason to discriminate against them. Some people are even born with a craving to eat shit, but others acquire a taste for shit as they grew older. The fecesphobes don't want this dish served in public. They say that shit has no nutritional value, that eating shit is unsafe and can even kill you. They say that shit isn't even a food and it's quite revolting to watch someone eat shit, not to mention the stink that emanates from it. Well, eating is a basic human function and some people like to eat shit. What's the big deal? And there are plenty of junk foods around that people eat all the time. Hell, some people eat worms and other revolting, stinky things. Why don't they have a problem with that? As a matter of fact, eating shit is better for you. Obesity is a terrible problem now. All those fat slobs are quite disgusting. A diet of shit will keep you very lean. And there is always shit around to eat. It's very easy to whip up a tasty dish of mashed potatoes and gravy. Fecesphobes are nothing but intolerant haters. But, after a long, hard-fought struggle, eating shit is finally acceptable. Oh, the shit eaters are making great strides. The new mashed potatoes and gravy are even offered as a food choice in school cafeterias. Children must be taught that eating shit is perfectly acceptable and should be encouraged to try it. We don't want our children to grow up as lard asses, do we? Yes, the social stigma has finally been erased as evidenced by the increasing references to mashed potatoes and gravy on TV shows, even going so far as having characters who are partakers of this delicacy. That wouldn't have been possible twenty years ago. The shit eaters have a long way to go though before their preferred food is as widely available as other foods. Their goal is that every restaurant and grocery store be required by law to serve or carry their mashed potatoes and gravy dish. They have the right to eat their favorite food as much as anyone else. Please help the shit eaters by writing your congressman, senator, the prez and demand that shit eaters get their right to eat their dish anywhere, anytime and as much they want. Thank you. Thursday, April 24, 2008Dr. Charles StanleyAt one time I would have considered those in the audience to be total idiots, deserving of being conned. I don't think this way anymore. These people are searching for help, answers, anything that will help them get through their lives. Life can be so overwhelming at times that I can see how some will grab onto anything or anyone who promise some relief, comfort and hope. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I stumbled onto one televangelist whose sermons have kept me interested. Dr. Charles Stanley appears to be a rarity among the others. There is a sincerity, humility and simplicity in his sermons, spoken in his Southern drawl, that make Dr. Stanley come across as the real thing. I like this man. I like what he says. I like his face. There are some faces that shout SOB, sleazy bastard and many of the televangelists are prime examples of this. Here are the video archives of Dr. Stanley's sermons. If you happen to listen to any of them, let me know what you think. I've only listened to the most recent ones. Dr. Stanley's ministry is called In Touch Ministries. I will be catching his sermons every Sunday if I'm up at that time or I'll download his sermon sometime afterwards. Have I said that I like this guy? I do. I'm also looking around for a Bible Church to attend - it's time for me to get back into the real world with real humans. You guys have been good company but God didn't create us to be hermits - unfortunately... Tuesday, April 22, 2008Of Quirks And ThingsI do find quantum physics to be very interesting - sometimes spending hours engrossed in articles on physics sites. That was a while back - when I could still manage to retain more than a few sentences of information in my brain. All that has changed now. Anyway, I put this particular image up here because it's close enough to quirks - and quarks are kind of quirky little things, along with those who study them. All my physics profs were pretty eccentric kind of guys, same with most of my math profs. Back to the subject of quirks. Just a while ago I was driving back from the grocery store and engaged in one of my recently acquired quirks. When I turn off the main street onto my street, the road slopes downhill. I'll put my car in neutral and see if I can coast all the way to my house, along the driveway and right into the garage. I'm trying to get it just perfect so the car will come to a stop inside the garage but so far I haven't been to able to do that. I've pooped out in the driveway, or had too much momentum, needing to apply the brakes. I will do this in other places like in sloping parking lots or when I'm approaching a stoplight. Of course I'll only play my little coasting game when there's no traffic around and I'm not in a hurry. I'm also a counter. If I have to sit and wait somewhere I'll inevitably count any repeating geometric shapes, like window panes or tiles or whatever. It's not an obsession, just something I'll notice...and count. Obligated to attend Mass every morning in Catholic grade school, you can imagine what a counting fool I was - every single light fixture high overhead, every pew, every person, every rail, everything. I even created categories within a group, like all the blond girls, brunettes, etc. Then there's the impromptu race against an event. Like if I'm casually peeling an orange, I'll suddenly get it into my head that if I completely finish peeling the orange before the commercial on television is finished, I'll win. Then I start peeling like crazy, racing against the commercial. Sometimes I win these contests, sometimes I don't. And I will actually feel a twinge of a sense of failure whenever I lose. I will usually select events whose time frame is unknown to me, so I can't know how much time I have to complete my task. This makes the contest more interesting, adding a gambling aspect to it. And if I finish too soon, I'll add further requirements to my task and continue the race/gamble. That's about all the quirks or little games that I can think of at the moment. I'm not obsessive about anything really, not in an OCD way. My behavior is quite normal from all outward appearances. And, of course, I will only indulge in these oddities when I'm alone. Yeah, well, I'm sure you've got your quirks too. Come on, I know you do. Tuesday, March 25, 2008Oldies But GoodiesI don't think I've ever seen this movie all the way through because I don't recall much of it. That evil laugh of Jack Palance's did make an impression on my mind because I remember that maniacal face. He's such a great villain. The movie runs 137 minutes and had me glued to the tube. I don't think I took a drink or even stirred during the entire movie - it was commercial free. Anthony Quinn does a spectacular job as Barabbas. If you watch the trailer below, you'll note that the crucifixion scene was shot during an actual solar eclipse. I didn't know that until after I looked up some info on the movie, which was released in 1961. Get it and watch it if you haven't seen it. Some good gladiator scenes too. The other night I also saw The Bible: In the Beginning. There are all kinds of good actors in this one. John Huston plays a superb Noah - all his scenes are quite enjoyable. I believe he also does God's voice. And Peter O'Toole plays an angel that goes to Sodom and Gomorrah. He was one handsome man in his prime. Oh, those blue eyes... Anyway, I love all the old bible movies and they always make me cry. In the classic, The Ten Commandments, when Charlton Heston as Moses stands on that big boulder, holding his staff up high and God parts the Red Sea - I start sobbing - every time. I do cry at the oddest times. Speaking of Charlton Heston, Ben Hur is my favorite movie of all. It's hard to believe that Hollywood actually made movies like that at one time. They'd be out of business today if most people were like me. The last time I went to a movie theater was to see The Passion of the Christ in 2004 (and I made an atheist professor, with whom I was working on a project, take me - he was much too infatuated to not grab this rare opportunity to spend some time with me outside the lab - ha!). I have zero interest in the mostly mind-warping trash Hollywood spews out these days. The Bible: In the Beginning - trailer Friday, March 14, 2008The Case Of The Crying Fan - ConclusionSo there I sat, reconnoitering. Well, not really. I first beat myself up a bit, thinking - you had to go and mess with that fan even though you knew it wasn't going to help anything. You bumbling idiot! Now you've got two problems. Then I proceeded to more constructive thoughts. Contingency plans begin racing through my mind in situations where it seems I'm getting cornered. I'm thinking, I've got that dinosaur desktop in the other room. I could get online with dial-up access on this DSL account and search for this part. It's a stupid fan. Couldn't be hard to find. Even if the blade is missing, that noise is still there. Perhaps there's no fixing this part, it needs to be replaced. Still, my stubbornness would not let me go that route. I saw nothing wrong with this piece. A little voice was screaming to me - Lubrication! It just needs a little lubrication! But my big voice was saying - Nah, this isn't a car. Computers aren't oily things. Do you see any sign of oil anywhere? No. If you go and put oil in that part you could totally ruin everything! Shut up, little voice. But after several more hours of tinkering and microscopic analysis, it was obvious that I was getting nowhere. I had to change my course of action. It was late on a Sunday night, stores weren't open so I couldn't call anywhere to locate the part. I finally decided to get online with the dial-up and ended up struggling for hours with that as I've never used dial-up with this high-speed account. My ISP's tech support are a bunch of third world monkeys sitting in a third world shit hole, who couldn't care less about helping anyone and are too fucking stupid even if they could bother their lazy, shiftless selves to try. At one point this Latin idiot told me my modem wasn't working and I should contact the manufacturer! Seriously. Another tech retardo told me they don't support Windows 98 - I may or may not be able to connect. I will say no more about this, except that I hate, detest, loathe, abhor every single of one those motherfuckers. Companies who hire them, like my ISP, should be bombed. Anyhoo... it was 3am, I was tired, utterly defeated and there was nothing more I could do so I crawled into bed, not even bothering to take my clothes off. Then just before I closed my eyes a brilliant idea popped into my head - use auntie's dial-up account! I had that ISP before and knew all the settings. Get her username and password first thing in the AM. Now it's Monday morning, stores are open. I would first call Fry's or Micro Center. No luck. Then I called some HP repair/parts service. It seems I'd have to replace the entire heat sink and two fans (see image above) - the single fan was not sold separately - $160 and they'd have to order it. $%#%$#@#$@%*!!! I wanted this part NOW! Time to get online. With auntie's username and password I got connected immediately. Yeah, stick that modem up your dirty ass, you useless piece of third world garbage. Eh, this is how I feel about those third world losers being shoved in our faces and lives - I'm not going to pretend. And until I see evidence that I should change my attitude, it's going to remain this way. Searching around didn't help me at all. I found the part - $78 - again, the whole cooling unit. I called the company's phone number. The guy said it was on back order and would be at least a couple of weeks. $%#%$#@#$@%*!!! I explained the noise to him and he confirmed that, yes, it was time to replace the part. Uh huh. The hell with that. I wasn't going to wait, I was going to fix this. GAWD, this dial-up was soooooooo slow - 28.8. I would end up having a nervous breakdown if I had to work with this for any length of time. Surely, my problem was not unique. There had to be some info about noisy fans somewhere out there. So I searched on something like "noisy fan"+repairing+laptop and...bingo! I stumbled upon this forum where these guys had been discussing the very problem. And their solution? LUBRICATION!!!! Like my little voice had been telling me almost from the start of this ordeal. I immediately got up, marched straight into the garage, looked around at all the different oils on the shelf and decided on a tiny can labeled "Household Oil". With trembling hands I took everything apart for the umpteenth time, dropped a few drops of oil into the area where the bearing was and spread it all around, then put it all back together again. I didn't care about that missing blade at this point. The moment of truth. I pushed down the power-on button... and waited... Not a screech, not a whimper, not a moan nor a groan, not the tiniest odd noise to be heard. HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALL-E-E-E-LU-JAAAAH! Praise God Almighty! Oh, sweet victory was mine. I give all the credit to my awesome God. I always do in these cases because I can tell He's guiding my blind, pathetic self along. He knows that I could not afford to pay for a new part and needing to be online for my work. You would not believe how many times He's bailed me out of bad jams. Thank you, merciful God. Now if the noise returns, I will take one of the forum guy's advice and use graphite powder and oil. He said it's the best and lasts forever. And thank God for all you wonderful guys! I should get one for myself one of these days... Here it is, Friday - 5 days of quiet and normal operation. Actually, the laptop is running smoother and quieter than ever since it got a much-needed cleaning - that it would never have gotten had it not been for the crying fan. The end. (This turned out longer than I expected.) Monday, March 10, 2008The Case Of The Crying FanI am back online after being incommunicado all day Sunday and most of today. My laptop, the machine I always use, had been rather asthmatic for a while. It was making some noises - like a wheezing of sorts and some grinding and groaning every now and then. I ignored its cries for help - until yesterday morning - when it made such a horrible sound upon powering it up that I thought the whole thing might break apart. I immediately reached for the power-off button. I waited a bit and tried again. Maybe it was a freak thing and whatever the problem was had magically gone away. Right. It was worse. Oh Lordy! No 'puter, no Internet, no nothing. I had work to do, blogs to read, emails to ignore! What to do? And with no access to the Internet, how could I search for a clue? I was completely and utterly on my own. I am not a hardware type. Like most women, I just want the thing to work so I can go about doing what I want to do. You know, the same attitude they have about their men... But, unlike most women, I will take things apart when they don't work, hoping that something obvious will present itself. Starting out without a clue, but then with much study, patience, and stubbornness, I will often find the problem and repair it. I have surprised myself at how many things I've been able to fix. Stubbornness can be a virtue. Having nothing to lose, I turned the thing over and started it up so I could at least locate where the screams were originating from. Aha! It appeared that the injured party was a fan. But to get to it I had to unscrew all these tiny little screws holding the cover in place. I tried everything - tweezers, knives, all sorts of pointy objects - a corn on the cob holder, tiny appetizer swords, various manicuring tools, etc. Dammit. I turned the house and garage upside down. Then at last I stumbled upon an eyeglass repair kit containing the cutest little screwdriver you ever saw. Like a mad woman I rushed back to the table, teeny screwdriver in hand. I was determined to get a look at that fan and no frickin wee screws were going to stop me. The screwdriver head fit into the tiny groove! Yeah! My glee was short-lived as I couldn't get enough torque on it to budge a single one. Arrghhh! Having watched Cousin work on cars, I remembered something. I grabbed a pair of pliers, tightly gripped the mini screwdriver's handle with it, and slowly turned. Movement at last! Victory was mine! Finally, the bloody cover was off. Now, to get to that fan. More screws. Ha! No problem. I lifted the fan out. Oh my. The dirt! On the fan and everywhere. I could also see mossy-looking brown gunk sticking out here and there from under another covered area. More screws to unscrew. Yikes! The vents were almost completely covered with a matting of lint, dust, barely visible cat hairs, and who knows what else - that could be lifted off in almost a solid chunk. The cat is forbidden from ever again sitting next the laptop. It's a wonder the poor machine managed to survive this long. Even after removing the big pieces of filth there remained too much dust and dirt, so I grabbed the vacuum cleaner with its handy-dandy attachment in place and sucked out every little piece of everything - after first making sure that nothing important would be swallowed up. That's better! I then proceeded, slowly and thoroughly, with q-tips and alcohol, to clean off the fan blades and all other visibly icky surfaces. And after all that, I was dismayed to discover that the original problem was still there. Oh, I didn't want to admit it, but there was no denying the reality. I could turn the fan with my finger and hear it making a noise, which logic told me would be greatly amplified at its much faster operating speed. The other fan was fine - spinning absolutely noiselessly. There was something inside this fan that wasn't right. But I had to prove it to myself anyway by putting everything back in place and starting it up. Yep, the screech from hell was still there. At this point, I am an expert screwer/unscrewer of itty-bitty screws, so I had it all apart again in no time flat. But, I have to admit that I have a problem distinguishing between things that are meant to come apart and things that come apart only when sufficient force is applied - never to come together again. It gets kind of tricky when you really don't know what you're dealing with. Being mindful of my propensity for oops-ing up things, I gently pulled at the center piece on which the fan blades were attached. There was some resistance. I pulled slightly harder. And wouldn't you know it, it slid right out. I quickly put it back in to make sure it wasn't permanently out. Whew! Now, I had the fan taken apart as much as I was going to dare. I carefully inspected both pieces with a magnifying glass and flashlight, sucked the hell out of them with the vacuum attachment, q-tipped every reachable tiny surface with alcohol. I could see absolutely nothing wrong and the q-tips weren't even dirty. But, there was still a little dirt on the blades and since there were no electronic components on it, just a simple piece of plastic, 13 blades and a metal bearing - a shaft-like thingy - I decided I'd clean it more thoroughly. Subconsciously I knew that further cleaning of the blades wasn't going to make any difference because my mind was going over what the hell must be the real problem and thus not paying attention to what my hands were doing... Next thing I know, snap! A single blade goes flying off. This was NOT supposed to be a detachable part. It was immediately obvious that I had just done some irreparable damage. One thing about me, I don't cry over spilled milk. I go catatonic. Everything shuts down and I freeze - all thoughts and emotions cease. I just sat very still, eyes fixed on that single, tiny, black blade lying there, far away from the main piece still in my hands, now with 12 blades and a little stub. After a few minutes, I got up and made myself a cup of coffee. Clearly, it was time to reconnoiter. Will she fix the fan? How can she after mutilating it? What was causing that noise? And how ever did she get back online? Find out next time as The Case of the Crying Fan continues on my next post. I did not expect this tale to go on so long. I've had it for today. Saturday, March 1, 2008My Birthday WishMy birthday is just about here. And if I had one wish... Mr. Darcy, as portrayed by Colin Firth in this 1995 adaption of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, is probably as close to my dream man as there ever will be. I really must get out more. But so long as I'm here and online, with my blog page open, this post will do very nicely until I can think of something to write about. It may be a while... |
Enter miscellaneous comments below:
[Gemma Meyer is the pseudonym of a South African journalist. She and her husband, a former conservative member of parliament, still reside in South Africa.] People used to say that South Africa was 20 years behind the rest of the Western world. Television, for example, came late to South Africa (but so did pornography and the gay rights movement). Today, however, South Africa may be the grim model of the future Western world, for events in America reveal trends chillingly similar to those that destroyed our country... America's structures are Western. Your Congress, your lobbying groups, your free speech, and the way ordinary Americans either get involved or ignore politics are peculiarly Western, not the way most of the world operates. But the fact that only about a third of Americans deem it important to vote is horrifying in light of how close you are to losing your Western character. Writing letters to the press, manning stands at county fairs, hosting fund-raising dinners, attending rallies, setting up conferences, writing your Congressman - that is what you know, and what you are comfortable with. Those are the political methods you've created for yourselves to keep your country on track and to ensure political accountability. But woe to you if - or more likely, when - the rules change. White Americans may soon find themselves unable or unwilling to stand up to challenge the new political methods that will be the inevitable result of the ethnic metamorphosis now taking place in America. Unable to cope with the new rules of the game - violence, mob riots, intimidation through accusations of racism, demands for proportionality based on racial numbers, and all the other social and political weapons used by the have-nots to bludgeon treasure and power from the haves - Americans, like others before them, will no doubt cave in. They will compromise away their independence and ultimately their way of life. That is exactly what happened in South Africa. I know, because I was there and I saw it happen. Faced with revolution in the streets, strikes, civil unrest and the sheer terror and murder practiced by Nelson Mandela's African National Congress (ANC), the white government simply capitulated in order to achieve "peace." Westerners need peace. They need order and stability. They are builders and planners. But what we got was the peace of the grave for our society. The Third World is different - different peoples with different pasts and different cultures. Yet Westerners continue to mistake the psychology of the Third World and its peoples. Sierra Leone and Zimbabwe are perfect examples of those mistakes. Sierra Leone is in perpetual civil war, and Zimbabwe - once the thriving, stable Rhodesia - is looting the very people (the white men) who feed the country. Yet Westerners do not admit that the same kind of savagery could come to America when enough immigrants of the right type assert themselves. The fact is, Americans are sitting ducks for Third World exploitation of the Western conscience of compassion. Those in the West who forced South Africa to surrender to the ANC and its leaders did not consider Africa to be the dangerous, corrupt, and savage place it is now in Zimbabwe and South Africa. Those Western politicians now have a similar problem looming on their own doorsteps: the demand for power and treasure from the non-Western peoples inside the realm. It is already too late for South Africa, but not for America if enough people strengthen their spine and take on the race terrorists, the armies of the "politically correct" and, most dangerous of all, the craven politicians who believe "compassionate conservatism" will buy them a few more votes, a few more days of peace. White South Africans, you should remember, have been in that part of Africa for the same amount of time whites have inhabited North America; yet ultimately South Africans voted for their own suicide. We are not so very different from you. We lost our country through skillful propaganda, pressure from abroad (not least from the U.S.A .), unrelenting charges of "oppression" and "racism," and the shrewd assessment by African tyrants that the white man has many Achilles' heels, the most significant of which are his compassion, his belief in the "equality of man," and his "love your neighbor" philosophy - none of which are part of the Third World's history. The mainline churches played a big role in the demise of Western influence throughout Africa, too; especially in South Africa. Today's tyrants were yesterday's mission-school proteges. Many dictators in Africa were men of the cloth. They knew their clerical collars would deflect criticism and obfuscate their real aims, which had nothing whatever to do with the "brotherhood of man." Other tyrants, like the infamous Idi Amin, were trained and schooled by the whites themselves, at Oxford, Cambridge, and Harvard. After receiving the best from the West, they unleashed a resentful bloodlust against their benefactors. From what I have seen and read thus far, I fear Americans will capitulate just as we did. Americans are, generally, a soft lot. They don't want to quarrel or obstruct the claims of those who believe they were wronged. They like peace and quiet, and they want to compromise and be nice. A television program that aired in South Africa showed a town meeting somewhere in Southern California where people met to complain about falling standards in the schools. Whites who politely spoke at the meeting clearly resented the influx of Mexican immigrants into their community. When a handful of Chicanos at the back of the hall shouted and waved their hands at them, the whites simply shrunk back into their seats rather than tell the noisemakers to shut up. They didn't want to quarrel. In America, the courts are still the final arbiters of society's laws. But what will happen when your future majority refuses to abide by court rulings - as in Zimbabwe. What will happen when the new majority says the judges are racists, and that they refuse to acknowledge "white man's justice"? What will happen when the courts are filled with their people, or their sympathizers? In California, Proposition 187 has already been overturned. What will you do when the future non-white majority decides to change the names of streets and cities? What will you do when they no longer want to use money that carries the portraits of old, dead white "racists" and slave owners? Will you cave in, like you did on flying the Confederate flag? What about the national anthem? Your official language? Don't laugh. When the "majority" took over in South Africa, the first targets were our national symbols. In another generation, America may well face what Africa is now experiencing - invasions of private land by the "have-nots;" the decline in health care quality; roads and buildings in disrepair; the banishment of your history from the education of the young; the revolutionization of your justice system. In South Africa today, only 9 percent of murderers end up in jail. Court dockets are regularly purchased and simply disappear. Magistrates can be bribed as can the prison authorities, making escapes commonplace. Vehicle and airplane licenses are regularly purchased, and forged school and university certificates are routine. What would you think of the ritual slaughter of animals in your neighbor's backyard? How do you clean up the blood and entrails that litter your suburban streets? How do you feel about the practice of witchcraft, in which the parts of young girls and boys are needed for "medicinal" purposes? How do you react to the burning of witches? Don't laugh. All that is quite common in South Africa today. Don't imagine that government officials caught with their fingers in the till will be punished. Excuses - like the need to overcome generations of white racism - will be found to exonerate the guilty. In fact, known criminals w ill be voted into office because of a racial solidarity among the majority that doesn't exist among the whites. When Ian Smith of the old Rhodesia tried to stand up to the world, white South African politicians were among the Westerners pressuring him to surrender. When Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe murders his political opponents, ignores unfavorable court decisions, terrorizes the population and siphons off millions from the state treasury for himself and his friends, South Africa's new President Thabo Mbeki holds his hand and declares his support. That just happened a few weeks ago. Your tax dollars will go to those who don't earn and don't pay. In South Africa, organizations that used to have access to state funds such as old age homes, the arts, and veterans' services, are simply abandoned. What will happen is that Western structures in America will be either destroyed from without, or transformed from within, used to suit the goals of the new rulers . And they will reign either through terror, as in Zimbabwe today, or exert other corrupt pressures to obtain, or buy votes. Once power is in the hands of aliens, don't expect loyalty or devotion to principle from those whose jobs are at stake. One of the most surprising and tragic components of the disaster in South Africa is how many previously anti-ANC whites simply moved to the other side. Once you lose social, cultural, and political dominance, there is no getting it back again. Unfortunately, your habits and values work against you. You cannot fight terror and street mobs with letters to your Congressmen. You cannot fight accusations of racism with prayer meetings. You cannot appeal to the goodness of your fellow man when the fellow man despises you for your weaknesses and hacks off the arms and legs of his political opponents. To survive, Americans must never lose the power they now enjoy to people from alien cultures. Above all, don't put yourselves to the test of fighting only when your backs are against the wall. You will probably fail. Millions around the world want your good life. But make no mistake: They care not for the high-minded ideals of Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, and your Constitution. What they want are your possessions, your power, and your status. And they already know that their allies among you, the "human rights activists," the skillful lawyers and the left-wing politicians will fight for them, and not for you. They will exploit your compassion and your Judeo/Christian charity, and your good will. They have studied you, Mr. and Mrs. America, and they know your weaknesses well. They know what to do. Do you? |