I am not an animal lover. And let that be a testament to those of you out there who think I'm "soft". Sure, I can shed a tear at any, and I mean any, kind of emotional garbage put before me. I've cried at athletic greatness and disappointment, at weddings and funerals (although it's time to put the fun back in funeral), at movies, the theater, ballet, pretty much anywhere where my spirit gets moved in any way. But when it comes to animals, I've got nothing. Some years ago I had to put my childhood dog Ginger to sleep. She had spent the last weeks of her 13 years suffering from some form of cancer in or near her mouth. In the end she couldn't eat. I took her to the vet and they couldn't get a good look because she wouldn't let them near her muzzle. They said that they would have to put her under to get a quality look and then they felt that they would only be confirming what they already suspected. I guessed that it could be a piece of wood stuck in the back of her jaw somewhere that was causing the white blood cell count to spike as it fought the infection which won me mas points with the vet. But, they advised, her chances of coming out of anesthesia at her age were 50/50 at best. Without hesitation I told them that I wanted to put her down. Their reaction of relief was unexpected by me. I figured they would want me to put her on an IV drip or some such non-sense. They instead praised me for my decision and that ultimately it was what was best for the dog. That too many of their customers want to keep Fido alive even though it's cruel to the animal. I went back to the rockpile where I had to deliver the news to my mother. She took it pretty hard, but what really irritated her was that I delivered the blow while noshing on a Whopper (way before the bike non-sense). She turned on her heel and retreated to her office but not before dropping an, "you have interesting defense mechanisms," on me.

So last night, just after we got the kiddiewinks to bed, we discover that our dog Matilda was missing. A beautiful black lab that is just about as good a pet as you could hope to have. The wife scrambled about furiously whistling, clapping and calling. We figured she got out around noon and had been gone for over seven hours. She likes to roam but always returns. This time she didn't and we don't know what has happened. Unfortunately, during her last outing she came home without her collar which we didn't get a chance to replace. So now she is out there with no identification. Many calls to the pound have been placed and no one with the details fitting my dog have been turned in. Meantime, I've tried to console my wife as she is a wreck but it only goes so far. Hell I feel worse for her than I do for the damn lost dog. I guess in the end, I know that a pet is a short run deal and I've never gotten into the whole emotional attachment as a result. This really bugs my wife. What can I say. I invest a hell of a lot more in people. Anyway, if you see a collarless dog out roaming around that answers to the name of Matilda, let me know. There is an owner and one only that will be greatly relieved.

Johnny GoFast

Had a bit of an issue today with PayPal. Tried to send somebody some money and PayPal wanted some bank information from me that only can be picked off of a check. Okay PayPal, let's think about this one. If I was in charge of the check book and could actually write a check and send it to somebody, why the hell would I need you? Asking my wife for the check book is akin to asking to get beat up for misspending family funds. No thank you. In the end I had to go to the wife anyway and deal with the, "you spent how much on what!?!" conversation. So PayPal, I hate to say it, but you are no longer my payment pal. Adios. Moving on. Rode up to the Junction today. As many of my reader know, the last time I tried such a feat, I ended up on my head. Happy to report that I kept the rubber side down this time. I am in pathetic shape and almost broke the scale this morning first by standing on it and then by chucking it out the window. Which all translates into shockingly slow movements up the hill. It's amazing how fast we lose whatever it was we had. On the way home I saw my wifes car parked in front of a gymnastics place. Being a man of numbers, I was able to put two and two together and found my wife with the kids inside. My wife was reading a book while the kiddiewinks were attending some gymnoclass. I sneaked up, ever so slow, stealthlike and leaned in and stole a kiss. My wife blushed and then smiled and then looked at me standing there and then disappointed like went back to reading her book. Actually, I'm kidding, she was surprised and happy which made me happy. I stayed and watched the kids tumble around for a while which was fun as well. Jackson is pretty coordinated and can accomplish most of the exercises. Maile is a lot like me in that she freelances her way through the exercises doing her own thing be it to the instructors approval or not. Doesn't seem to slow her down one bit. I like that. Anyway, hope you all are having a great day.

Johnny GoFast

Is it just me or is everyone running on empty today? Sure, Hernando is over there cranking along, but he's not human. About all I've got for you is the story about someone actually putting up my wife for GodParent consideration. It ultimately got shot down due to there being some debate as to whether she was atheist or not. Now to set my reader straight, she is not atheist. She does have some issues with the whole Jesus being the son of God stuff, but she does believe a) there is a God, and b) there was historically speaking a fella running around named Jesus. I for one think she would make a great GodParent. She would have nothing but total respect for the dead parents and I'm certain that she would painstakingly follow through with the tyke's spiritual upbringing. It just would be hilarious to watch because she gets the creeps from organized religion types especially the door knocking types. I enjoy talking to the occassional Mormon or Jahova (I've just discovered that I have no idea how to spell that word-topic one next time they knock) Witness. I've never felt strongly enough about anything to go door to door to try and convince people that my way works/is the best. Why not listen? My wife on the other hand, can't do enough to make them go away. When she sees them coming, she runs and hides as if they are there to rob her in some way. Saving her soul for eternity everlasting is akin to Jeffrey Dahmer waltzing in with an apron on. So anyway, that's what I've got for you. Kind of a yawner. Hope you are well. I'm going to go nap.

Johnny GoFast

-I’m 40, healthy and happy.
-I have two beautiful children who are healthy and happy.
-When rowing in college, I once saw a woman standing on a dock at Redwood Shores who was so beautiful that I thought I could die and go to heaven at that moment and be perfectly content.
-Months later I worked up the courage to say hello to her and we fell in love. I married that girl.
-I grew up with three brothers who I was very close to.
-I lost one brother to cancer, but learned that life is a blessed thing and if we do it right, there are no regrets.
-I’m still close with the other two. I split rocks with one brother and own a cabin in Truckee with both. When the planets align, we go skiing together and nothing could be better.
-I revere my parents as they are my shining example of what is possible. Without my father, I don’t know if I would see all the opportunity there is in the world. Without my mother, I don’t know if I would truly understand the word “hope”.
-I have nieces and nephews of all shapes and sizes. Each has qualities that are unique and wonderful. They all have shining faces.
-I have sister-in-laws that have taken the family to new heights.
-My mother in law is a wonderful person with nothing but love in her heart. I pray that those qualities find there way into my children’s core.
-I have a wealth of friends who challenge me to be true.
-I enjoy anything that involves people, health and laughter.
-I have been to the middle of nowhere, breathed in the scenery, basked in the moment.
-I have been to the mosh pit to have my eardrums split open and feel the massive pounding of the crowd.
-I have known defeat and I’ve known victory. Both are incredible motivators.
-I’ve learned that people have had different experiences and have as a result, molded different opinions. I have worked at understanding those opinions and not to try and change them but hope to maybe change my own.
-I have been to far reaches of the planet and met wonderful people and have seen amazing things. I still enjoy my home the best.
-I have what I need.

I have a lot to be thankful for. Hope you do to.

Johnny GobbleFast

So what is it with coffee? I am not a drinker. Repeat, I do not drink coffee. I don't know how this happened. Everyone I know likes to drink coffee. I've been on rides that stopped almost immediately so we can suck down coffee. To fit in once, I ordered a cup of tea (crowd goes gasp) so I would look the part. I promptly spilled that cup of hot tea all over my friend, Bill Carslay. I don't think he noticed as he was injecting his coffee at the time. Pure coffee drinkers are great and they are very open with spilling information as I pump them full of questions. It's vogue to hate Starbucks, I've discovered. Some will follow that up with, "well if I can't find anything else, I'll get one from them, but only when I can't find something else." Interesting as I see a ton of them about. I once read an article on Starbucks. They announced that they were opening a Starbucks kiosk in the bathroom of a Starbucks. Now that is market penetration. Of course that article was written up in The Onion so I'm assuming they were pulling my leg, but I can't be sure. Coffee junkies may think this is a good idea. People seem to think Pete's is pretty good and that 7-11 and McDonalds is really bad. However, they will still get coffee in either of these places. Workplace coffee ranks down low, 7-11 and McDonald's territory. I have a coffee pot at my cabin in Truckee. I don't know how to work it, but my guests always do. They know to look in the freezer for the grounds and in various cabinettes for the filters. Most mumble something during the process such as, "I don't have this kind of machine but I can make it work, I think." And presto, gurgling, bubbling, aroma, etc. It's kind of embarrassing when customers come to the rockpile and I have to fix them a cup. I have to find a mug, hope that there is some in the pot, figure out how they take it, etc. Most of the time I take them with me into the kitchen, fumble for a nanosecond before they shove me aside and get to work. They always move fluidly as if they've been making coffee in that kitchen for years. They seemlessly reach for the creamer and know exactly where the sugar is. As we walk out, they grab a swizzle stick I didn't even know we had. I guess when you drink coffee, you're a highly evolved species. I find it fascinating. Just something I've observed over the years. I'm sure some of you have the jitters now just thinking about your next cup. Go grab one, I'll wait.

Johnny GoFast

"GoFast goes slow but GoFast goes," screamed the announcer this afternoon as Johnny GoFast rolled across the finish line of today's lunchtime race. A truly relieved GoFast made his way through the masses to his handlers who took his bike from him and quickly ushered him into a waiting team vehicle. A spokesman for the Pegasaurus team addressed the throng of reporters that had assembled in front of the team bus. "I asked him how the ride went today and Johnny replied that it felt good to be back out rolling after the layoff. He said that his legs felt great and that he had only limited discomfort in his upper torso area. We will continue to watch and monitor GoFast to assure ourselves that we aren't rushing him back to action. Some encouraging things that we saw from him out there today included a couple of bunny hops and one nifty descent down a grassy embankment. There was a bit of a grimace on his face but otherwise we took that as an encouraging sign." Andrew Hood of Velonews was on hand and had a few questions, "any truth to the rumor that GoFast is now addicted to Vicodin and that he can only ride on days where he gets a lethal injection of cortisone?" The spokesman briefly scoffed at the question and then ended the question and answer period abruptly and disappeared. More news as it becomes available.

I have a little extra time today so I thought I'd answer some mail from some of my readers:

Dear Johnny-
I'm perplexed as to why a dozen eggs at the Safeway store costs a dollar less than two packages of eighteen. I can't seem to figure out why there is such a dicrepancy. Shouldn't 36 eggs be three times as much as 12. Steve Griffiths Granite Bay California

Steve-
Great question. This is something I've given a lot of thought to. It's clear to me that this is Bush's fault/master plan being orchestrated by Carl Rove. It is simply put, another vehicle to forge a wider gap between the rich and the poor. As we know, poor people have regular to small size refrigerators. Their space is limited. Meanwhile the rich have those honking SubZeros that can house a medium sized Inuit family on the egg shelf alone. By cranking up the per egg rate on the dozen, Safeway and Bush can just screw the hell out of the little guy while the rich guy with the uber abundance of space gets rewarded by a lower per egg price. I suggest we boycot Safeway and this obvious attemp to forge a wider void between the masses.

Dear Johnny-
What are your plans now that you are out rolling around again on your two wheeler? Chieko Kakihana (GoFast's wife)

Chieko-
Oh for crying out loud honey, you know I have to ride. And don't be giving me this "you're always out riding your bike" crap, because I just spent the last three weeks doing nothing but hang with the family and you know I try to do a lot of riding at lunchtime so as not to interfere with the home life and you know I'm paranoid that I'm going to get dropped every time I'm out there so back off.

Dear Johnny-
Are you interested in buying a boat? Scott Peterson Death Row San Quentin State Prison

Scott-
Ummmmm...hmmmm...great question, but no.

I have time for one more question:

Dear Johnny-
If you could eat one thing and eat as much of it as you wanted and not gain weight, what would it be? Orson Welles

Orson-
Nice to hear from you. I think. I'm pretty sure you're dead so I'm not sure how you got in here. But I'll answer none the less. I think I would have an Applefritterraviolipizzabeermeatballsandwichonsour-
doughchocalatechipcookie. Deep fried.


Thanks for reading and I'll see you out there rolling. Wear black tomorrow. Milton Friedman dead at the age of 94. Great man. 'Nuff said.

Johnny GoFast

When I was a boy growing up in Toledo Ohio, the kids in the neighborhood would all get together and have buckeye fights. Our yards were separated by low rock walls that offered great cover. We would collect the buckeyes (a small hard nut about the size of a golf ball) and stash our arsenal in special spots along the wall. When a fight would break out, to be sure, there would be plenty of ammo on hand. In the winter these fights would invariably be of the snowball variety. You learn very young that a few things are essential in procurring victory in a snowball fight. 1) Fighting from an uphill position is absolutely vital (some would suggest that having a strong accurate arm is essential. Not so. Without elevation advantage a good arm will only carry you so far. A ball thrown "down hill" gives the advantage to the thrower even if he isn't as strong or as accurate as his target Eisenhower's Law); 2) Almost as essential as an uphill position is having good cover (when the battle ground is level--good cover becomes the number one essential); 3) A strong cache of ammo and preferably a snowball maker (often a younger child not ready for the task at hand or a wounded ally unable to protect themselves during battle); and finally 4) Strong and accurate throwing ability.

It is with these abilities ingrained in my inner conscience that I headed out with my family for a wintery walk on the Tahoe Rim Trail on Saturday morning. The snow had started falling about 5am, and by noon, there were a few inches on the ground. We did the requisit building of the snowman, and making of snow angels and then it happened. Whomp-whomp. Right to the back, two snowballs. Direct hits. I turned to see my boy with a ginormous grin on his face and my daughter with a devilish grin. It's on. As they bent to get more snow, I moved down the trail. I secured a position just after a bend in the trail that gave me a great visual of the approaching enemy. I found a waist high boulder flanked by a number of low growing pines. I was elevated about three feet above the main route. I furiously began forming snowballs as I could hear the enemy troops quickly approaching. I waited. I could see them coming but wanted them more in range. My wife was the first to spot me and let fly with a ball. It smacked harmlessly into the rock. I was the next to throw and scored a hit on my wife in her left shoulder. I was aiming for the right shoulder as that is her dominant side. The boy threw next, wildly and high right. I noticed my daughter advancing and I stopped her dead in her tracks with a hit to the chest. She fell backwards. Another ball came in my direction and I failed to pick it up on my radar. It glanced off my head but it wasn't a mortal wound. I got off two quick shots. One a hit on the boy who was knocked backwards and one that just barely missed the wife's thigh. It was clear that I was winning the battle. The little ones had retreated now, cowering behind my main objective (the wife). I let go of a torid volley in her direction. The first got her in the forehead, the second missed badly, the third and fourth will live in family lore forever. With the wife, yet again, having to form another ball, I aimed for her as she was bent over to grab some snow. Before the round smashed into my target, she began to stand up. The ball, narrowly missing my intended vic, smashed into my boys face. There was a moment of silence at which point I threw my final ball. This one blasted off the wife's hip and careened into my girls face. About the time my boy got reved up into full wail mode, my daughter began to harmonize. Arm cocked, my wife shot me a look. The battle was won, but I somehow knew at that moment the war was completely lost. The lesson? Not sure, but I will say this, later when having evening mess with my family, I asked the now allied troops what their favorite part of the day was, they both clearly stated that the snowball fight was the best. OooRah Privates!!

Johnny GoFast

So Last night the girl climbs into bed complaining about a sore belly. The wife took that to mean that her waist band on her pj's was too tight so she switched it out for a gown. At this point I didn't think much of it. Well, about an hour or so later the fireworks began. Luckily, my little girl was pointed in my wifes direction (she was sleeping between us) when she let fly with the bile from within. Direct hit! And then like Vesuvius, she kept it going. My wife, clever one she is and already plastered, grabbed the wee one and off to the bathroom they went. Which left me there with vomit on my bed and nausea running through my body. I'm a lot like you in that vomit makes me vomit. In what seemed like no time, my wife had: a) gotten my daughter to the bathroom to complete the evacuation; b) gotten her into the shower; c) run by me saying "just don't stand there gagging"; d) come running past me again with a spray bottle of mirracle 'get rid of vomit smell quickly' and clean sheets the latter of which she thrust in my direction. Before she climbed into the shower, she stripped the bed, squirted the mirracle solution on anything that looked foreign and got the sheets into the washer. She then came past me again, a little slower this time, and asked me very calmly to remake the bed. She then got into the shower to clean up. This whole thing took less than three minutes. I was still gagging unable to move. Truly incredible. The little girl made it the rest of the night save for a few false alarms. The whole thing went so smoothly that I'm convinced that my wife, when I'm not around, runs practice drills for such an event. Nothing like being prepared.

Johnny GagFast

Took the boy to Yosemite last weekend to check out Half Dome. Had a great time bouldering, watching the rock climbers on El Capitan, hiking through the forest, etc. This weekend we are headed up to Truckee for more of the same. I'll get to be with my daughter and wife, so it will be double the fun. Hoping to hike some of the rim trail off of Brockway Summit/Watson Lake. The section from Watson lake affords some of the most beautiful views of Lake Tahoe that I know of. Purely spectacular. I miss racing, but I'll make the best of it. Truly, being with the family is way better anyway.

Last night I was sitting with the wifeage on the couch as we watched an episode of Sopranos on DVD. We don't have cable so we watch all the stuff that's been watched months before in hopes that we can join popular conversations around the watercooler if not a half a year late. Anyway, I relate to her that I'm having shooting pain down the backside of my left arm. Don't know if I've got some sort of pinched nerve thing or if this is some new developement due to compensating for other injuries in the region. My wife then starts asking me whether my fingertips are numb and low and behold, I think they are. Then she wonders aloud if I'm having a heart attack. I dismiss the notion, but then in my head I think, maybe. So I'm sitting there for the next five minutes with the numb arm, shooting pain, normal chest discomfort and I start to convince myself that I am having a heart attack...or maybe I'm having a stroke. I read somewhere that people, at the onset of a stroke can't smile. So I think, maybe I should try and smile. So I force one out. Right then my wife happened to look at me and asked me what the hell I was doing with such a weird look on my face. Busted, I confess that I was checking to see if I was having a stroke by smiling. I don't know if she's ever laughed at me so hard, and the ridiculousness of it all got me to laughing that the ribs started to ache something awful. I think I'm losing it/whatever I had left. Anyway, to those of you racing this weekend, I salute you. Go fast and hard and smile if for know other reason than to let other people know your not having a stroke.

Johnny GoFast

GOFAST DOMINATES THE COMPETITION IN TODAYS LUNCHTIME RIDE

In todays running of the Indoor Exercise Cycle Lunchtime Stage Race held at 24HourCheese in Concord California, Johnny GoFast dominated the competition with style and ease otherwise not exhibited in this club for some time. "I definitely had my eye on the small asian chick on the recumbant like machine," said GoFast as he towelled off after his ride. "But I noticed that her pedal stroke faltered each time she flipped her magazine page. I knew that if I struck at the right moment, she wouldn't be able to go with me. As she neared the end of one of her pages, I pounced and that was the last I saw of her," he went on to say. GoFast clad in his Pegasaurus outfit was clearly the class of the field as he raced against aging older men and women that were seemingly out of place in their gym shorts and tee shirts. "I've worked hard to earn my sponsorships and I race hard for them," GoFast said in response to beating a field of unsponsored riders. When asked what his future race plans held GoFast went on to state, "I'll be back tomorrow to defend. I really put a lot into the effort today so I hope I have the sensations in the legs for another great performance. I'll more than likely stick with the asian rider again and keep an eye out for attacks. If I'm feeling good, I'll look to attack in the final minutes to add to my lead." Tomorrows stage is an hour long and will cover the exact same terrain as today. We will have complete live coverage starting at 11:58am.

Johnny GoFast

So the wifeage yesterday was driving the kiddiewinks to school when she encountered a teeniebopper at the intersection. We live down a little lane that shoots off of a larger one separated by the boulevard. The intersection is controlled by a four way light. Most people as they head west through the intersection do not realize that those of us exiting our street have a green light as well as we head east. It is not uncommon for people to turn left in front of us all the time. We're used to it, but it gets a little annoying. So today, the wife squirts out into the intersection turning right off of our street and onto the boulevard. The teeniesomething in her daddy bought fancy car turns left into my wife almost stuffing her in the side. Annoyed, the little one honks, yells something, cuts the wife off and plows on ahead. Fuming, my wife follows the girl into the Safeway parking lot down the road and proceeds to let the little one have it, rule book and all. Unbeknownst to my wife, another car followed the pair into the parking lot and started to tell my wife that she was wrong. Bad move. I've tried it, trust me, bad move.

So then this other dude with pool equipment in the bed of his little pickup truck chimes in saying the teenygirl is right. "SAYWHATPOOLBOY!!!!" goes my
wife. "How 'bout we head right over to the sheriffs office (same complex) and have a chat with them. 'Cause I was there a few days ago asking them the very question to make sure I had it right. Huh Pool Boy, do you wanna?" Point conceded and boom goes the dynamite. Then I get the call and boy was she hot. To review: uncool to turn left in front of oncoming traffic....especially my wife. My guess is that the girl and maybe the Pool Boy will think twice before they proceed through that intersection. HoooBooyy.

Johnny GoFast

So I showed up like a proud American today to do my voting thing. Been voting in the same spot for 22 years now save the few times I voted while living in Minnesota. From my parents house, which is the address used for voting purposes because I'm too lazy/paranoid (don't want to end up on somebody's hit list for jury duty-my patrioticness only goes so far) to change it to my current locale, I can throw a rock and hit the voting booth. I'm there at like 6:30 in the morning to do my thang, and I'm uncerimoniously thrown out by the crusty hairs. When my "what happened to voting early and often" fell upon deaf or humorless ears, I heard the door lock. When they opened the door at 7am, I was there card in hand eager to do my part. At the table it was discovered that I was in the wrong spot. My voting place had been changed after 22 years to the Womens Club (or something) across town. The voting conspirators determined to not count my vote were at a loss for words when without another hitch I made it in to the booth. And don't that feel good. A little bummed as every year for as long as I can remember, I've been riding either in the morning at lunch or after work to cast my ballot. This year, with the ribs a little tender and now a new developing intercostal problem, I had to propel the behemoth to the booth. Kind of sucked. The 'I Voted' sticker that always ended up on my bike is now on my shirt. The politics of injuries, I guess.

So a while ago I blogged about my friend Duncan who's had some troubles as of late regarding past decisions. Though I'm one of the more oblivious when it comes to modern/popular advancements such as technology, I've been able to link his new blogsite to mine. He's a great guy and an interesting writer with a unique perspective on life. Click it and see for yourself. Hope you are well and regardless of your political affiliation, for goodness sake, don't forget to vote.

Johnny VoteFast(and often)

Vicodin, you’ve been pure sweet bliss to me,
But now it’s time for you to let me be.
I’m better now and feeling a somewhat strong,
Leave me now, oh won’t you please be gone.

You took the pain and dulled it down a bit,
For this I thank you from the bottom of my pit.
But now it’s time for me to go it alone,
The pain still here in my awful cracked rib bones.

The crash it’s been about a week or so,
And pain will be here longer before is goes,
But I’m tired and edgy and feeling a bit the junky,
I’ll endure the pain and move a little clunky.

My sights they’re set out somewhere on the road,
A clear head and heart I need to bare the load,
My legs they want to turn the pedals again,
Vicodin, you’re a vice for weaker men.

Vicodin, you’ve been pure sweet bliss to me,
But now it’s time for you to let me be.
I’m better now and feeling a somewhat strong,
Leave me now, oh won’t you please be gone.


To the Tune of San Quentin by the Man (In Black)

So I go for a walk today at lunchtime, yes I've been reduced to walking as my main form of exercise, and I pass a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Normally, when traveling at high rates of speed, I would never notice such an item. But there, as plain as day, a filled box of doughnuts sitting, no begging at me, from the side of the trail. How did they get there? How long had they sat there? If I ate one and no one saw, would it count? I didn't even brake stride, but my mind was hurling about for at least 15 minutes. I don't even like the brand of doughnut. Hell, the Apple Fritter (most underrated doughnut ever) is better at 7-11 than anything Krispy Kreme can concoct. So I reach the turnaround point wondering how I'd be able to sneak by these things without popping one in my mouth. I approached them ever so slowly even trying to will myself not to look at them or even acknowledge their existence. The force, too much for me to overcome, sucked me in and at the last moment I dove for the box. I flipped the lid and to my astonishment they were all gone. Relieved I pressed on but for a bit of guilt for had there even been a crumb left, I would have crumbled.

Upon my walk I decided that if I can walk I can ride a stationary bike and if I can ride a stationary bike then certainly I can ride my bike on a trainer and if I can ride my bike on a trainer then I certainly can ride up and down the Iron Horse trail and if I can ride up and down the Iron Horse Trail then I can get up and down the boulevard and if I can ride up and down the boulevard I certainly can throw in an interval or two and if I can do that I can race. See you on December 3rd at the last Pilarcitos race when I will return. Maybe not fast and maybe not in the Master A race, but I will toe the line and launch exorcising the deamons. That's the plan and that makes me smile a bit.

Johnny WalkFast (actually I can't even walk fast)