I know the state you refer to, Justa Picker. I've gotten some great poetry in that state. But never, alas, any visits from anybody.

I envy y'all. My life is a sheer unmitigated monotony of explainable phenomena.

Even when my mom had a poltergeist, and I was living in the same house (next room even!) I couldn't hear or see or feel anything.

I think, Murray, you must be right, and I'm on the very low end of the spectrum.

Oh well. Such is my lot.

Alex