-Feanor.Net :: Deeper Magic from the Dawn of Time-

PRELIMINARY: We're really, really good at space. Including but not limited to, the exploration, conquest, and subsequent resource management thereof. I've never been more proud. And pardon my francais Mr. President, but it's a pretty damn big sky.

Because I am the opposite of prompt and responsible, I have been allotted some sort of a game show host tuxedo for tonight's gala, where I will happily weld my ass to a number of European chariots while scoffing at the shit that GM continues to push at the average consumer. I was going to trade my car in this spring sometime, you know, before I realized that I was missing a cool billion. Instead, we've souped up the coupe as best as we could and the lil' guy is due for a multitude of repairs down at JOE'S early next week. I'm asking for at least 100,000 miles out of the tinted drugmobile, and, pathetically, I still have not received my driver's license from the trooper that mistakenly seized it this past weekend... and thus, barring me locating my passport, this could be a disappointing evening, to put it lightly.

Oh, but there's unthinkable magic happening tonight.
So we'll figure it out. And then, we'll be happy to elucidate.

That's the royal we, you know.
If only my bank stocks would recover...

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