It will do the Irishman good to put in a few weeks of hard labor. As he toils on the new domicile, his surliness is sure  to give way to calm...'ney, even to public acceptance? The thought of BM alone in the World...on his own...his boat adrift...nothing to slake his curious thirsts (Black Juice comes to mind)...well, it's more than a civilized being can comprehend.

   Still, there is always hope, Randy. Fix up the dungeon...err, 'work space', nicely for him. When that hard hearted general contractor you've leased him out to returns him in a few weeks, the boy will never again wander from the confines of the 'Rancho de Robinett' and the safe and cozy environs of suburban Madrid, Iowa.

    Happy trails to you, Big Mike. Keep your nose to the grindstone and you powder dry, lest you suffer the fate of the infamous Vladymir.   -Al