I was carrying on as best I could... trying to act the Jeff-less Mutt. "Self," I said on Monday, "Geary's strangely silent. Here I am waiting to concede the Sunday prize--anything he does will be better than my B.R. drivel--and then he naffs off into the void, leaving me clutching this awful plastic trophy with the effing golden effigy on top...Typical. Another week with the thing cluttering up my piano...Hurry up and write, man, instead of whining about a small thing like being thought dead. I'll start you off, 'Compressors are lovely, compressors are fine It's the stuff that's in them which is made by swine...'" David Ritchie Portland, Oregon ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html