As I descend into the Hellhole of my Kissmeass, I am lifted by a day long, intermittantlty, by times, banter with a fellow Mudcatter. An Irish Secret Agent living and lurking among the English in their very homeland. They suspect he is a spy but are not sure. Being polite, they remain simply suspicious, even tho he plays fiddle and is within a trio of those that play and write music of The Emerald Isle.

We spoke of much. We spoke of The Baby Jesus. We spoke of Noah and the polar bears in Palestine... even of Noah and the snake that betrayed Adam, the first man on Facebook, at risk of discovery by the Dutch. The Dutch. English? Germans? Austrians? Even SWISS? Nay... fear the Dutch. Wooden shoes? A simple ruse. Cute and cuddly? Do not fear the Dutch at your own peril.

Anyway, we came up with several ideas for new songs, none of which have anything to do with the Dutch. Ya don't wanna fuck with the Dutch. They got wooden shoes and The Manatee Brigade right? I mean, it's winter here and manatees can sneak right up to my back door without wearin camo... sneaky bastards. Just gotta close their eyes and lie in wait to ambush me on my way up ta yer Sobeys fer a carton a milk. They are ruthless!

In the end, we commiserated and held fast to the joyous truth that Erin is free of snakes... free from the evil which Noah brought to the rest of humanity upon his ark. Along with the polar bears from Palestine. And, more importantly, the Dutch.