FINE! Tori's post forces me to confess the truth... We were serenely paddling our way through the South Seas when two unforseen events happened: The Irish bloke ran out of Guinness and a typhoon came up. Blinded and trembling from the precipitous drop in his blood alcohol level, the bloody chuffer lost his oar. In a fit of rage, I promptly chucked the entire Irish shipment overboard and used him for an oar. The storm blew itself out, as these things do, and I spotted a lovely tropical atoll through the lifting clouds. Exhausted, I altered course, barely making it to the beach before collapsing. Here I sit in a tropical Paradise with a dead Irishman, a missing shipment, and so damned far behind schedule as to face capital punishment at the hand of mobs of angry customers stoning me to death with Poser 4 manuals. I built myself a rather sizeable cottage out of Poser 5 boxes, fermented some cocunut milk, and pondered the mathematics of this situation: Keep going and face certain doom or use my last empty Guinness bottle and a torn off back manual cover to send you all this note saying that, with my regrets, I don't think I'll be going anywhere soon. I'd love to write more, but I've got several shrimp on my improvised barbie that need turning. Aloha! :-) Anthony H.