I'm sorry Marty for ever thinking you were anything but simple and straightforward.

SO JODY.......What I seem to be missing is the Cranky Yankee part, but I may have missed it somewhere. Although I generally am known to have the staying power of the smell of a dead skunk on a moist summer night, I seem to have gotten lost in your treatise somewhere in the the Silurian division of the Paleozoic era, although perhaps I went astray earlier in the Devonian. I bravely stumbled on though and was finally able to contrive the true meaning in paragraph 37 of Chapter 91, Book 2, which seems to be, "Never let your third cousin Hector mate with an Alpenhorn."

Later on I just skimmed, which is my natural tendency when encumbered by a convoluted thesis in which I have only marginal interest such as the works of Soren Kierkegaard or a performance by "Up with People." I do want to thank you for your efforts in addressing this topic. It's reminiscent of stories I used to hear from an Albanian hat blocker who'd fought in the Crimea, unfortunately, after the war had ended. Sit back and know you have done a fine job and when the Insanevac Chopper arrives it will transport you to the Neil Young Center for the Terminally Screwed where a tiple and noseflute await you. Be prepared for a long stay.

Spaw