I read that older thread and now feel I've been wandering with tiple-ing talking coyotes in the desert after drinking too much tequila: I may have et the worm. Or been abducted by those Liliputian alien musicians and set down with false memories.

And I'm now determined to mount a fervent Save the Innocent Leaping Armadillos From Cruel Drivers campaign. Think I can get Brigit or Sir Paul to cuddle one for the photo op? ;-D