Oh, thanks, thanks, I am sure. This is not my bullet, just a raving pain-in-th-ass distraction from more important things. Here I was, wandering through the forest minding my own beeswax, and suddenly I am jumped by a gang of polysyllabic medicine men with incantations and sparkly masks. Where's Rama of the Jungle when you need him? As I said, them as is born to hang ain't gonna drown.