. . .

Goldarnit. I'm a genius

Or so I continue to claim.

Warning afterforenote: Alloni is expecting, during this message, to wheeze brilliance onto the face of humanity. As he is an assorted mushroom of omniscience this morning, we will assume his form and bow flagrantly to show our contempt.

Nope. I retain my coherence. It is a struggle, one which I will inevitably lose, but I do what I must because I must when I must muster the musty muskets and mussels No. Coherent! We are trying to make a point in the four minutes twentyone or less than that until this operation completes itself proving itself the victor and still cham-peen of the wild game of life. Or time. Point! Poit! I have a point somewhere. It used to be a sharp one, before I whittled it down with my useless toys and gamers. I mourn the loss of the point. We have a simple ceremoany. This email will make sense again. I swear it. I swear it on the grave of my father. Why? He's doing quite well. Walks with a limp.

Chocolate is neat.

My point having been made, I scuttle off into the sunset where I belong. For I am Helios! Immortal god of light! I will set fire to myself should you need proof. It'll hurt, but then I'll have your worship, which can only be good. Add you to my ever-growing cult.

I do have a cult, apparently. There are people out there convinced a) that I greatly resemble Jesus, and b) that I am a really cool guy. This oddles me, but I will get over it. My army grows.

Au revior.