Steve Shaw, you've just confirmed my longstanding suspicion that it's a wonder you can even feed yourself. You've got a lot of nerve. It's because of people like you that Eden is burning. You're the kind who doesn't know what any of it is worth. Your profession's your religion, your sin is your lifelessness. Your money doesn't talk, it swears. Obscenity, but who really cares? I saw you standin' next to me, your head was exploding with useless and pointless knowledge. While the rest of us keep on keepin' on, you knit a bald wing for Jack the Ripper who sits at the head of the Chamber of Commerce and sit in your room...your tomb...with a fistful of tacks. While the wise among us make love, you're expecting rain. It felt out of place, Bob's foot in your face, but you should've stayed where your money was green. You're not busy being born, you're busy dying.

Oh, and you too, Ed.   ;-D