_____________________________________________________________ 
/ Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,                \
| And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;            |
| Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth          |
| Of sun-split clouds and done a hundred things               |
| You have not dreamed of --                                  |
| Wheeled and soared and swung                                |
| High in the sunlit silence.                                 |
| Hovering there                                              |
| I've chased the shouting wind along and flung               |
| My eager craft through footless halls of air.               |
| Up, up along delirious, burning blue                        |
| I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,         |
| Where never lark, or even eagle flew;                       |
| And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod              |
| The high untrespassed sanctity of space,                    |
| Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.               |
\                 -- John Gillespie Magee, Jr., "High Flight" /
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        \   ^__^
         \  (oo)\_______
            (__)\       )\/\
                ||----w |
                ||     ||


According to the Fact Sphere: "You are going to die in this room."


In the spirit of William Shakespeare: Thou art a ruttish, spur-galled pumpion.