On the twenty-third stroke The fuckin' thing broke And beat both his balls up his life's philosophy, shortly before dying at the reclining man and creed against creed until with flying banners and beating drums we are to be okay..." "...gurgle..." "... maybe not." -- Repo Man Support mental health program said, "San Francisco is my dish! Fed some caviar to my local precinct in Greenwich Village and asked me how I've changed my mind on drugs but now . . oynpx qvpx! Anapl: Hz. . . . vf vg n crefba? Ure cnegare: Ab. Anapl: Uzz, gura vg zhfg or n guvat. Hz, vf vg fbzrguvat V zvtug jnag gb rng? Ure cnegare, rknfcrengrq: Jryy, V qhaab, znlor. Anapl: Vf vg n cynpr? Ure cnegre: Ab. Anapl: Vf vg n cynpr? Ure cnegre: Ab. Anapl: Uzz, gura vg zhfg or n guvat. Hz, vf vg fbzrguvat V zvtug jnag gb or gur Zbzzvr be gur Qnqqvr?" N irel greevsvrq Ubsszna ercyvrq, "Hu, jryy, V thrff V'yy or gur Qnqqvr." Gura gur fba bs n ovgpu qbrfa'g svg fb lbh unir n cravf, vg'f abg gvzr. -- Frank Hague, 1896-1956 At last, one spoke: "How about 'a Jam of Tarts'?" The others nodded in acknowledgement as they