The path drags on for a seemingly interminable distance, with innumerabl obstacles and potholes and roadblocks and vagrants and political campaigners and trash strewn along the way. The destination to which it all leads seems unobtainable, and yet we all will come to it. Some attempt to hold off and stop at roadside diners, others press on and hope to reach it soon, or wish there was some quicker transportation, so they could at last find some repose, peace of mind, and utter stillness.

No Michael, this is not a suicide note, per se, just a bout of self-expression as a means, no doubt futile, of relieving some things. My operation is on Monday and a live action/CGI Peabody and Sherman film is on the way.