Good Heavens! I, in my drunken stupor, have allowed the Kash Bowl's board to drop all the way down to 5th. Could I have been so blind toward a group filled with amphora after amphora of AW history??? I reach up with one massive, heroic arm and grasp at the edge of Mesopotamia's memory...............nothing - I've missed.... But just before I pull my hand back, consigning myself to the heaps of human toil and waste upon which 'tells' are made of, a willow root rushes between my fingers. I close my fist in desperation, attempting to halt the plunge. Clods of Meso-mud are filtered from the roots by my fingers as they rush through my hand. I squeeze harder. Memories of cross-dressed ostrich-ranchers, Ostrich-adopted daddy Celts, embarassed Carthaginian officers, Annie Lennox and the 'Ur'ythmics, Caily polishing....(well, everything) fly through my head. I squeeze even harder, as though holding the root will hold the memories. The fall slows to a stop, and I pull with every ounce of my strength. The light isn't too far above, after all, we only slipped 5 boards down. I pull again, and we rise a bit more (above "Party Central"). My arms ache so - yes, even more than after tossing back all those drinks in the drinking contest. In desperation, I pull harder than I knew I could. I most probably will owe some deity a great deal for giving me this strength. My grip continues to hold, to function beyond mortal means. Then I awaken from my stupor. My left hand is squeezed around Sokni's throat, while my right is pulling the bark sleeve off of Mac's arm. Oh my. Uhhh, you guys ok? Uh, Sokni.....purple is actually a good look for you. And uh.....Mac, you've been putting on some nice new muscle lately.....I think your clothes needed to be stretched out a bit. What do you think everybody? Doesn't he look better with somewhat more room in his attire?