Meanwhile, even further into the Southern Hemisphere......"How much further?", you ask? Think way south. No, not the southern coast of Oz. Keep goin'. Yeh, that's it! You got it! The South Pole.......

A rather small red-cheeked fellow wearing a dirty green jumpsuit and carrying a rather full canvas mail-bag comes limping into what appears to have once been an office but is now so cluttered with broken musical instruments that there is hardly room to move.. Behind the desk sits a thin, scruffy man of about fifty who bears a startling resemblance to Ted Nugent. He is idly noodling on a lovely, obviously custom-made koa dreadnaught. He looks up when the small fellow addresses him. "Yo! Santa Cruz! Check this out! More letters from those Mudcat weirdoes."

Santa Cruz puts down the D and takes the bag of mail from the little guy. "Aw, damn, Elf-dude! I thought I was through with that bunch. Hell, let's see what they want..... Art Brooks wants a new Tony Stuart tuneable bodhran. Hey! Good choice there, Art ! Bee-dubya-ell wants a Jerry Read Smith chromatic hammer dulcimer! Hah! In your dreams dude! You're gonna have to be satisfied with a coupla sets of guitar strings just like last year! Sorcha wants an Amati fiddle. Hey, girl, did you hear what I just said to Bee? Rewind and play back. John From Hull wants a case of bears. So what else is new? Oakley wants the undying love of Miss Penelope Rutledge. Aw, Jeez, Oakley! I'm only Santa Cruz, not God! I can do the improbable, but the impossible's His field."

"Aw Hell! That's enough work for one day. Yo! Elf dude! Screw this shit. Let's take the sled out for a shakedown cruise. Yoke up them rain-deer. Yes, I said 'rain-deer'. I know your old boss up north has 'reindeer'. These aren't the same. These sumbitches are called 'rain-deer' 'cause they're too damned dumb to come in outta the rain. Got 'em ready! Okay, dude. Let's go find that Mudcat Tavern. I hear they've got Aurochs sausage with lots of garlic, free running Tequila, and women of questionable morals. Just my kind of place."

"On Gibson, on Fender, on Collings and Martin! On Breedlove, on Yamaha, Larivee and Lowden! Yeh, I know it doesn't quite rhyme. So, sue me, ya dipshits. Get movin' ya lazy damned things! No tellin' where them crazy fuckers have got that Mudcat Tavern parked."